


Shadows and Secrets

by Thunder_the_Wolf



Series: Just A Dream [3]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_the_Wolf/pseuds/Thunder_the_Wolf
Summary: Fireheart is navigating the pitfalls of mentorship, and he's doing a pretty good job if he says so himself. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. Part 3 of the Just a Dream series.
Relationships: Firestar/Sandstorm (Warriors)
Series: Just A Dream [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/945852
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

Cold gripped the forest, fields, and moorland. Snow-covered everything, glittering faintly under a new moon. Nothing broke the silence in the forest except for the occasional soft rush of snow sliding from branches of trees and the faint rasping of dried reeds when the wind swept through them. Even the murmur of the river was stilled by ice that stretched from bank to bank. 

“I still can't believe what you've asked of me.” A large, red-brown tom let the howling winds swallow his words, but his companion, a blue-grey she-cat, heard them anyway. 

“You don't have to. They've settled in well?” She demanded sharply. 

“I wouldn't have it any other way. We're lucky they don't look exactly like either of us. They're both stone-grey with blue and green eyes. Could be any cat's.” He sneered. 

“But they're yours now. You'll do right by them, I know it!” The she-cat demanded fervently. 

“I still can't believe what you've asked of me.” He scowled. “I know you weren't expecting to have them so soon, but you couldn't give them to a queen of your Clan?” 

“It  _ has _ to be this way, Oakheart.” His mate insisted. “Maybe one day I'll tell you why.” 

“I look forward to a wonderful explanation, m'dear.” He sneered. “But I don't want our last words to be of bitterness and anger.” He murmured, nuzzling her throat. 

“I love you, Bluestar, even if I don't understand why you've done what you have.” 

“I love you too, and I promise you that I always will.” 

_ It's just not the right time. _

Her thoughts went unspoken, and they burrowed in the snow together. 

_ Perhaps Mosskit will see me after all _ , she scoffed as she closed her eyes.  _ It's not like any of this was worth it.  _

  
  


Bluestar snapped awake to find that it was not nearly so cold, but getting there. She watched the lichen that covered the entrance to her den sway gently in the breeze. 

Oakheart was gone and her kits likely had no recollection of her. 

_ It's not like any of this was worth it…  _

The blue-grey she-cat rolled to her paws and padded out of the den. There was no point in going back to sleep. 


	2. One

The icy wind blew snow into Fireheart’s face as he struggled down the ravine toward ThunderClan’s camp, a freshly killed mouse gripped in his jaws. The flakes were falling so thickly that he could scarcely see where he was going. His mouth watered as the prey-scent of mouse filled his nostrils. He hadn’t eaten since the previous night, a grim sign of how scarce prey was in leaf-bare. Hunger clawed at his belly, but Fireheart would not break the warrior code: The Clan must be fed first. 

A glow of pride briefly drove off the chill from the snow that matted his flame-colored coat as Fireheart remembered the battle that had taken place only three days before. He had joined the other ThunderClan warriors to help support ShadowClan when the marshland cats were attacked by almost a Clan’s worth of cats in their own camp! As Fireheart pushed his way through the gorse tunnel leading into the camp, he dislodged snow from the spiky branches above and flicked his ears as the cold lumps fell on his head. The thorn trees around the camp gave some shelter from the wind, but the clearing in the center was deserted; everyone preferred to stay warm in their dens when the snow lay this thick. Broken tree stumps and the branches of a fallen tree poked above the covering of snow. A single line of pawprints crossed from the apprentices’ den to the bramble thicket where the kits were cared for. 

Seeing the trail, Fireheart could not help but wonder after his sister. Now that the kits were a bit older, Nutleaf had taken to helping Yellowfang around in the medicine den, and would hopefully be apprenticed alongside her kits. It took a lot to be a medicine cat. It wasn't something that just anyone could do. But Nutleaf was determined to serve her new Clan, and this was a way for her to do so. Trotting across the snow into the heart of the camp, Fireheart dropped his mouse on the pile of fresh-kill near the bush where the warriors slept. The pile was pitifully small. What prey could be found was thin and scrawny, hardly a mouthful for a famished warrior. There would be no more plump mice until newleaf, and that was many moons away. Fireheart turned away, ready to go back on hunting duty, when a loud meow sounded behind him. He whirled around to find the Clan deputy shouldering his way out of the warriors’ den. 

“Let a better-rested warrior try their luck in this weather. Bluestar has chosen you, Sandstorm and Dustpelt to go to tonight's Gathering.” 

Fireheart’s ears twitched with excitement. It was an honor to accompany the Clan leader to the Gathering, where all four Clans met in peace at full moon. 

“You should eat now,” added the dark-coated tabby. “We leave at moonrise.”

He began to stalk across the clearing toward the Highrock, where Bluestar, the Clan leader, had her den; then he paused and swiveled his massive head to look back at Fireheart. 

“Remember which Clan you joined!” He hissed acidly. Fireheart sighed. He knew that Tigerclaw wasn't happy with him having friends in other Clan's, but he wouldn't trade Oakpaw, Wetfoot, Greenflower, Silverstream, or Onewhisker for the world! Oakpaw had needed a shoulder to lean on the other day, having seen both his parents die within the span of not even a few heartbeats. Fireheart was surprised that the young tom hadn't broken down entirely or fainted. That was what  _ he'd _ wanted to do half the time. 

“He needed me and I was there. I would do more of that for any of my Clanmates.” The ginger tom hissed. 

“The entire forest is not your Clan.” Tigerclaw growled. “And you would do well to keep that in mind.” 

Fireheart rolled his eyes and started for the warriors den just as Bluestar gave the accustomed call for announcements. 

He groaned. In this weather, no one wanted to do anything but burrow in their nests and sleep. 

_ Life goes on, even in leafbare. _

Bluestar waited until every cat settled into the clearing. 

“Nutleaf, your kits have their sixth moon and I've noticed your love of the medicine den. Step forward so that you all may receive your names.” 

Nutleaf squeaked, alarmed, and nudged her four kits forward. Cloudkit, Patchkit, Splashkit and Lightkit hopped through the snowy clearing ahead of their mother. Bluestar met the group halfway and began the ceremony. 

“From this day forth, until he has received his warrior name, this apprentice shall be known as Cloudpaw. Whitestorm, you trained Sandstorm phenomenally, and I think you'll find you have quite a bit more in common with this one.” 

The Clan chuckled among themselves as Cloudpaw touched noses with his new mentor.

“From this day forth, until she has received her warrior name, this apprentice shall be known as Splashpaw. Willowpelt trained rather well with Frostfur and the others. I expect you to pass on all you know to this apprentice.” 

The pale grey she-cat nodded soberly and touched noses with her new apprentice. Bluestar turned to face Patchkit.

“You've come a long way, young one.” She murmured gently. “And you'll go further still.”

“From this day forth, until he has received his warrior name, this apprentice shall be known as Patchpaw.” She announced. “Mousefur, this will be your first apprentice. Treat him well and pass on all your know to him.” 

Patchpaw shook fiercely as he touched noses with Mousefur, who stroked her tail down his back and led him back into the crowd. 

“From this day forth, until he has received his warrior name, this apprentice shall be known as Lightpaw. Runningwind, you are patient and understanding. Your expertise will be needed with this one.” 

Some cats snickered and the pair touched noses. Finally, Bluestar’s warm gaze landed expectantly on Nutleaf. 

“It is to our benefit that you wish to become a medicine cat?” She asked. Nutleaf dipped her head. 

“I do.” She insisted. 

“Then I confirm your warrior name. Good luck with your training.” 

Congratulations were murmured among the Clan and Bluestar called the Gathering cats. Along with Bluestar, Tigerclaw, Sandstorm, Yellowfang, Nutleaf, and Dustpelt; Frostfur, Speckletail and the elders would be in attendance. This would be an interesting Gathering, if only because he didn't know how WindClan and RiverClan would react to the rogues that the ex-ShadowClan cats had set on their former Clanmates or the results of the fight. It would be something to look forward to.

* * *

The snow had stopped and the clouds had cleared away by the time the ThunderClan cats, Fireheart Sandstorm and Dustpelt among them, left camp and headed through the forest toward Fourtrees. The snow-covered ground seemed to glow in the white light of the full moon, and frost glittered on every twig and stone. A breeze blew toward them, ruffling the surface of the snow and bearing the scent of many cats.

The territories of all four Clans met in the sacred hollow, and at every full moon a truce was declared for the Clans to gather beneath the four great oaks that stood in the center of the steep-sided clearing. Fireheart fell in behind Bluestar, who had already dropped into a crouch to creep the last few tail-lengths to the top of the slope and peer down into the glade. A rock reared up in the center of the clearing between the oaks, its jagged outline black against the snow. As Fireheart waited for Bluestar’s signal to move, he watched the other Clan cats greeting one another below. Fireheart recognized Tallstar, the leader of WindClan, sitting near the Great Rock, with his deputy, Deadfoot, beside him. Not far away, Runningnose and Mudfur, the medicine cats of ShadowClan and RiverClan, sat side by side, gazing at the other cats with eyes that reflected the moon.

After a fair amount of wandering, in which he searched out his young ShadowClan friend or wondered where his mate and sister drifted off to, Fireheart found himself near some elders, Patchpelt among them, who crouched beneath a glossy-leaved holly bush, where the snow did not lie so thickly. Keeping an eye out for Oakpaw, Sandstorm, and Nutleaf, Fireheart settled down to listen to their conversation.

“I remember a leaf-bare even worse than this.” An old black WindClan tom, muzzle turned to silver and flank scarred from many a fight, was the current grumbler. “The river was frozen for more than three moons.” 

“You’re right, Crowfur,” A tabby ShadowClan queen agreed. “Prey was scarcer, too, even for RiverClan.” 

Fireheart was slightly surprised that the pair could speak without spitting hatred at each other, given what WindClan had been put through not even a full year prior. 

_ But then _ , he mused.  _ ShadowClan has been through as much.  _

It was getting harder to see all sides of the problem when he had cats he cared for on both sides of the fence. But WindClan didn't seem outwardly hostile… maybe he's overthinking it?

“Young warriors today,” the old black cat added with a glance at Fireheart. “Have no clue what hardship is.” 

Fireheart snorted from his place under the bush. Patchpelt shot him a knowing look. 

“I can't agree with you there.” He offered. “Tigerclaw sent this one into battle his first day here and he managed to hold his own.” 

Crowfur twitched his ears, interested now. 

“That can't be right. He was an outsider, from what I've heard.”

“He was.” Patchpelt agreed easily. “And he'd just come into the forest the night before. According to Dustpelt, they were hunting when Ravenpaw came begging for reinforcements. Fireheart, here, didn't even hesitate. Scared himself near death for a few moons after, but StarClan themselves can tell you that he fought like a warrior on his first day in the forest.”

“Can't say I was all that good.” Fireheart coughed, embarrassed. That day was so overshadowed by Redtail’s death that he found no victory in holding his own.

“You're here to tell the tale.” Crowfur insisted. “That's good enough for me.” 

The conversation drifted to a peaceful end as the leaders called for the start of the Gathering. Blackfoot stepped forward to address the crowd below. 

“A few days ago, ShadowClan was attacked by a Clan's worth of rogues. ThunderClan came our aid and for that, we thank them. The thing about these rogues… they claim they were misled and asked to repay us. Practically begged, to be honest. I speak for ShadowClan and have chosen Nightpelt as my deputy. I say all this to you because we share the forest, and, well, we would like your opinions.” 

Blackfoot seemed awkward up on the Great Rock and the clearing was stunned into silence. 

“If you're genuinely thinking about it then maybe they can help.” Fireheart mused aloud.

“What was that, boy?” Crowfur asked. 

“What if they only take a few cats at a time? Keep them for a quarter moon or two as a test?” 

The tabby ShadowClan elder, Dawncloud’s sister, he recalled, nodded along before calling out to the now muttering crowd. 

“This young tom has a good idea, Blackstar!” She purred, nudging Fireheart to his paws. Fireheart yelped, gaping, before nervously smoothing down his chest fur. 

“Go on and tell them, young’un. Nobody else has anything to say.” 

“I… I was just thinking maybe you could have them send a few cats for a quarter-moon. If you like the way things go, then they stay. If not, they leave and their entire Clan stays out of the forest.” 

Some cats grumbled about youngsters butting in where they didn't belong, but Blackstar nodded thoughtfully. 

“We'll take that under consideration. Thank you, Fireheart.” 

Alarm coursed through him. How did the leader of ShadowClan know who he was?! 

“You journey cats are all Oakpaw ever wants to talk about sometimes.” Dawncloud's sister chuckled. 

“ThunderClan saves the day again.” Someone scoffed. Fireheart twitched his ears and looked around to find that the sound came from an irritated ShadowClan apprentice. 

“Fireheart’s the reason we have our Clan back.” Oakpaw snapped. 

“Your dad being evil doesn’t mean you have to go sniffing the tail of the first cat you like.” The ShadowClan apprentice sneered. Several cats within hearing gasped, and surprise erupted among the rest when Oakpaw lunged for his fellow apprentice. The other cat, a black tom with a white patch around his left eye, reared up to meet him, yellow eyes flashing with triumph. 

“Enough!” Blackfoot called out, enraged. He prepared to claw his way down the Great Rock, but Crookedstar barred the younger leader's way with his fluffy tabby tail. 

“Let the crowd work things out.” He murmured. “You must learn to trust your Clanmates.” 

Blackfoot nodded, but remained tensed. Meanwhile, Wetfoot was unsuccessful in dragging the brown tom off of his denmate, and Fireheart found himself weaving through the crowd. 

“He’s learned his lesson, I’m sure.” The ginger tom found himself saying. 

Oakpaw froze, which gave the black tom enough leeway to try scratching his assailant. 

Thank StarClan that Oakpaw was as good at avoiding blows as he was in dealing them out.

“He shouldn’t have said anything.” Oakpaw growled. 

“Well if he didn’t know that before, he’ll have a few scars to remember you by.” Fireheart snorted. “Why don’t you sit with me and some of the elders?” He asked. 

Oakpaw brightened at that, and nearly bowled several cats over in his attempts to get to Fireheart. 

“See what I mean?” His black opponent jeered. 

“Be quiet, Smokepaw!” A different cat, someone Fireheart hadn’t had contact with, stormed forward. “What you said was inappropriate and extremely cruel! His parents are dead, along with half our Clan, and you think taunting him is the best idea?” 

“His father is part of the reason so many cats died in the first place!” Smokepaw scowled. “Why  _ shouldn’t _ he know that he’s a traitor?” 

“If that’s what you think,” The older cat sneered. “then Wetfoot shouldn’t have intervened. Maybe the humiliation would teach you some common sense.”

Fireheart led Oakpaw to where he previously sat to find that a few more cats had joined him. 

“I heard what that other apprentice said.” Greenflower scowled. “Cats like that wouldn’t know head from tail.”    
“He’s not wrong.” Oakpaw mumbled, ears flat. 

“Of course he’s wrong, young’un!” Crowfur snapped. “Your father making bad choices has nothing to do with how you’re going to live your life. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”    
“I just don’t get  _ why _ … he did terrible things under Brokenstar, we all had to! Why would he turn on us when he said he didn’t believe it?!” Oakpaw begged. 

“Because he was misguided, young’un. Spend enough time in a certain situation and some things just stick. There’s not much any cat can do about it.”

Fireheart felt something poke his shoulder and turned to find Greenflower staring at him. 

“How’ve you been?” He wondered awkwardly.

“Fine.” She murmured. “Blackclaw and I are trying for kits.” 

Fireheart nodded along. 

“You two will be wonderful parents, I’m sure.” He murmured. 

“So will Silverstream.” She scoffed. 

That brought all train of thought to a grinding halt. 

“Excuse me?” He blurted out, much to the amusement of a couple elders. 

“Perhaps we should finish this conversation elsewhere.” She snickered. 

“Absolutely!” He hissed in eager agreement. “Meet me at Sunningrocks tomorrow at sunrise, and bring Silverstream.”    
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.” Greenflower snorted. The light brown and white she-cat turned to say her farewells to Oakpaw and the elders before melting into the throng of cats. 

Fireheart forced his gaze to the Great Rock, mind whirling. This made everything so much more real… 

“What’d your friend in RiverClan have to say?” 

Dustpelt sounded far too amused for his own good, and the fact that Fireheart hadn’t even heard the brown tom before he made an appearance showed just how off he really was. 

“Just that she and her mate are having kits. She helped Oakpaw calm down a bit alongside the elders.”    
“Then what has you looking like a scared rabbit?” His friend chirped. 

“I… I have to tell you later. It has to do with the stories.”    
Dustpelt nodded and sat down beside the ginger tom. 

“Here’s hoping her news isn’t too terrible.” 

_ It could ruin everything…  _

“This is the beginning of my confliction.” Fireheart admitted. “This is where things change for good.” 

Dustpelt pressed his pelt against his ginger friend’s. 

“When all else fails, we’re warriors.” He insisted. “You know, at the very least, that you have Sandstorm, Bluestar and I.” 

Fireheart nodded and Dustpelt got to his paws. 

“We’ll talk more in a few days.” He offered before disappearing into the crowd. 

Fireheart turned his attention back to the elders to find that Oakpaw had taken up a spot beside him. A twitch of his ears caught the end of the Gathering, and he rose to his paws. Oakpaw stared at him as he bid his farewell to Crowfur and the others. 

“Thank you for helping me tonight, Fireheart.” The young brown tom murmured. “I’ll try not to be too much of a bother anymore.”    
What?! 

“Who said-?”   
But Oakpaw shoved his way between two moving cats and Fireheart lost sight of him. “Fox-dung!” The ginger tom snarled lowly. 

“I can only imagine what that poor kit must be going through.” Patchpelt murmured as he and Fireheart joined the rest of ThunderClan. 

“Someone told him that he wasn’t worth my time, and I want to know who.” Fireheart growled. 

Patchpelt chukled. 

“I doubt anyone’s told you this yet, but you and Sandstorm will be wonderful parents when that time comes.”    
Fireheart nearly stopped right then and there, and to his surprise, it was Sandstorm that bumped into him. 

“Crow got your words?” She asked gently. 

“Patchpelt thinks we make a good couple, is all.” He croaked. 

“I happen to agree.” The tan she-cat chirped. 

Patchpelt snickered and bounded ahead of them. 

“You did well with Oakpaw.” Sandstorm offered. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”    
“I can.” Fireheart realized bitterly. “In my dreams, I watched Tigerclaw’s kits grow up.” 

“Goldenflower has more kits?”

“Not yet. But she will. And in the dream, I, uh, I did a pretty good job of making them feel like mouse-dung for what Tigerclaw did. I won't make that mistake again.” 

“Sometimes you can't help your suspicions. You said that in your dreams, you were the only one who knew what was going on. Now you've got us.” 

Fireheart nodded absently, but all he could think about as he and Sandstorm left Fourtrees were Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, Swiftpaw and all the other cats he could've helped if he'd just paid a bit more attention. 


	3. Two

The first thing he did when he got back was head for the apprentice den. Poking his head in, he found Brackenpaw fast asleep, with Cinderpaw and Swiftpaw whispering among themselves. Next came Brightpaw and Thornpaw, who were also asleep. And then the newest four toward the edge of the den. 

“Getting pretty crowded in here.” He purred warmly. 

Cinderpaw’s head whipped around to face him.

“You're back!” She chirped. 

Fireheart nodded. 

“Just wanted to make sure everything is alright with you guys. Good thing most of them are asleep.” He snorted. Swiftpaw nodded. 

“We wanted to see how the Gathering went.” 

“You'll have to ask some other cat about that.” Fireheart laughed softly. “Maybe in the morning. Do either of you need anything?” 

Swiftpaw tilted his head, confused. 

“We're fine.” Cinderpaw meowed smoothly. “Thanks, Fireheart.” 

The ginger tom dipped his head and padded back out into the cold. 

* * *

“Fireheart?” 

Whoever jarred him from his half-sleep sounded hesitant. He couldn't exactly blame them. He was sitting at the center of camp in the middle of leaf-bare. Any cat would be wary if they saw him right then. 

Fireheart pried open his eyes to see that Willowpelt stood before him. He dipped his head, always happy to see her, and swiped his tongue over dry lips to speak better. 

“Is there something you need?” He asked. Willowpelt was a good friend to him, gave as much good advice as Whitestorm had in his former life, but she didn't really go to others about her problems. So for her to approach Fireheart as she had the day before the battle with the ShadowClan rogues meant a lot. 

“I've decided that I'm going to tell Whitestorm about… about my kits' father.” 

Fireheart bristled warily. 

“You're sure that's something you want to do?” He implored. “I'm not saying keep it from him forever, but this is big. Do Darkstripe and Greystripe know who he is?”

“I told them when they first became apprentices. They were asking constantly, the pair of them. You know, the only reason Darkstripe got promoted to warrior early is because Tigerclaw sped up his training. Lionheart wanted to take his time with Greystripe.” Willowpelt informed him. 

That made sense. From what he knew about Tigerclaw's mentor, of course the deputy would see no problem with passing on the training techniques he'd been taught to someone so painfully like him. It'd made him stronger, so why not? 

“Fireheart?” Willowpelt tapped his shoulder with her tail. 

“I was just thinking.” He offered. “Perhaps you should sit all three of them down. Greystripe and Darkstripe deserve to know that you don't blame them for what their father did. Darkstripe especially. And if you really want to tell Whitestorm, he might be able to help your family through their feelings.” 

“That’s what I was thinking.” Willowpelt murmured. The pair sat in a comfortable silence as the wind howled around them. 

“I'd like you to be there when I tell them.” The pale grey she-cat meowed tentatively. 

If Fireheart weren't already fixed to his spot, he would have frozen up right then and there. 

“I'm not so sure I'd be welcome.” He admitted. “And I try not to intrude on private moments.” 

“It's not an intrusion if I'm asking you. You're the first cat I've been able to tell without feeling like half-eaten crowfood, Fireheart. I want you there.” Willowpelt insisted. 

The ginger warrior dipped his head solemnly. 

“You can count on me.” He insisted. 

“Thank you.” Willowpelt's relieved breath was stolen by the night air. “You should get some sleep. I'll be telling them around sunset tomorrow.”

“I'll make sure to be in camp.” Fireheart offered.

Willowpelt pressed her side to his and licked his ear before padding back to the Warriors den. 

The wind felt like it was cutting right through Fireheart, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was a sign. Maybe he was in over his head.

* * *

Fireheart paced along the hunting trail, full of energy as he opened his jaws to taste the air. He knew he was dreaming, but his belly growled in anticipation of fresh-kill. Bracken arched over his head and bright, pearly light poured down on him, as if the moon was full in a cloudless sky. Every fern frond, every blade of grass glowed, and the pale shapes of primroses, clustering thickly beside the path, seemed to shine with a light of their own. All around him Fireheart could feel the damp warmth of newleaf. 

_ Definitely dreaming, _ he scoffed internally.

The icy, snow-covered camp seemed nine lives away. As the path began to lead upward, another cat stepped out in front of him. Fireheart halted, heart thudding as he recognized Spottedleaf. His former medical mentor flicked her tail urgently.

“You must see this.” She murmured before bounding away, not bothering to see that he followed. Fireheart raced after her, too tired to bother objecting, and soon they came to the top of the ravine.

“Look,” She nudged him to what she wanted him to see with an irritated meow. Fireheart blinked suddenly to find that the landscape had changed. Instead of the familiar span of trees and fields ahead of him, a shining expanse of water stretched as far as he could see. The reflected light dazzled him, and he closed his eyes. 

_ Where did all  _ this _ come from? _

He couldn’t even tell if this was Clan territory anymore, because the silver sheen flattened everything and hid the usual landmarks. Spottedleaf’s voice sounded close to his ear, and her message sent chills down his spine.

“Fire alone can save our Clan,” she murmured. “but water has always quenched fire.”

* * *

Fireheart awoke to warmth on either side of him, and heard sighs of relief even before he opened his eyes. 

“You have got to stop doing this.” Nutleaf was the first to speak, and he twisted his head around to see that she was huddled to his right where Sandstorm was draped around him, smothering his left side. 

“You're not invincible, Fireheart.” His mate murmured. “You have to know your limits.” 

“I feel fine.” The ginger tom meowed, confused. 

“You were halfway to StarClan last night and no one would have known if I hadn't remembered that you like to sleep outside.” The tan she-cat hissed. “We couldn't move you on our own because you were frozen half to death, do you even realize that?!” She snapped. 

Fireheart narrowed his eyes. 

“Willowpelt was out here with me.” He muttered. 

“She had the good sense to tell me so.” Sandstorm informed him cuttingly. 

_ Can the cold harm unborn kits?! _

Fireheart smothered the thought and got to his paws. 

“We should go hunting.” He meowed. 

Sandstorm narrowed her eyes. 

“You're not going to distract me that easily, Fireheart!” She hissed.”But let's get you warmed up.”

* * *

Fireheart bounded up the ravine, the snow crisp under his paws. The sun barely peeked over a dark blue sky, and the sight of it gave him hope. Newleaf was not far away. 

Just behind him, Greystripe echoed Fireheart’s thoughts. 

“With any luck, the sun will bring some prey out.” 

“Not if they hear you stomping along!” Dustpelt teased as he scrambled past the grey tom.

“He doesn’t stomp!” Brackenpaw, who was technically Greystripe’s apprentice, protested loyally. 

His mentor only responded with a good-natured growl. Fireheart felt energized despite his long night as if he could run for moons. 

Sandstorm snorted and kicked up snow. 

“It's about sunrise.” She chirped. 

That reminded him… 

“It's time you all knew the truth.” He insisted before racing away for Sunningrocks. 

“What?!” Sandstorm blurted out. 

“Fireheart-.” Greystripe stammered. 

Dustpelt rocketed after him, Brackenpaw on his heels. 

* * *

“You brought friends.” Greenflower noticed. Silverstream bristled at the sight of the ThunderClan patrol, and Fireheart sighed. 

“None of these cats will hurt you.” He insisted.

Silverstream snorted. 

“The only cat I can guarantee that of right now is you.” 

Greystripe recoiled, hurt in his eyes, and glared at Fireheart.

“I'm not sure this news is for an apprentice’s ears.” The blue-grey she-cat beside Silverstream meowed warily. 

Mistyfoot! He’d been blindsided with what he knew of her from Bluestar the first time around that he'd forgotten that she was not that much older than Silverstream and the newest batch of ThunderClan warriors. 

“You're right.” Sandstorm meowed sharply. “I'm not sure this is the place for me either, but I expect a full report when you get back, Fireheart.” 

The ginger tom blinked, confusion warring with sadness, before he nodded soberly.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. 

Sandstorm nudged a surprisingly stubborn Brackenpaw in front of her and the remaining cats waited until they were out of sight and earshot to speak. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Dustpelt demanded. “Is this where you've been running off to every other day, Greystripe? Is this queen the reason that Fireheart has been struggling to train two apprentices at once?!” He snapped. 

Greystripe couldn't answer, eyes locked on Silverstream. 

“How long have you known?” He rasped. 

“I've been carrying about a moon, according to Mudfur.” She murmured. “I only realized something was up half a moon ago.” 

“Why wouldn't you tell me?!” Greystripe snapped. Silverstream flinched and started backing up. 

“Because they don't know you and figured you'd react just like this.” Fireheart scowled. “I've heard tales of cats who don't want kits having them anyway, and their mates didn't always treat them right after that. But that was Twolegplace. Things are different here.” Fireheart reminded the group. “So why are you afraid?” He wondered. 

Silverstream inhaled shakily before she spoke. 

“You remember the second day of our journey, we were on the outskirts of Twolegplace and we'd split up to hunt.” 

Fireheart nodded. Silverstream, ever curious, had split off from where Greenflower was hunting and gone further into Twolegplace. 

“You saw something.” 

“A kittypet told her loner friend that she was carrying his kits… he went completely wild! It was all I could do to get her back into her garden, and by then he was gone.”

“Good. If you'd told me you were that curious, I could've shown you around a bit.” Fireheart snorted. “Not all of Twolegplace is that dangerous, and that particular cat was likely chased out by others.” 

Dustpelt spoke before Fireheart could continue.

“This isn't Twolegplace though. You're back in the forest with the rest of the Clans, and no matter how Greystripe feels about it, he would never hurt you.” 

“Good to know.” Silverstream scoffed. “Anyway, I'm keeping them.”

“Of course you are.” Greystripe murmured, eyes wet. “I'd like to see them.” 

“Maybe someday.” She mused. “I just figured you should know. That's why I asked Greenflower to mention it at the Gathering.” 

“Well, thank you for clarifying.” Fireheart muttered uncomfortably. “Good luck with your kitting, Silverstream.” 

The RiverClan cats nodded and left. 

Fireheart huffed and turned to the other two, only to find himself on his back with Greystripe's claws at his throat. 

“So, you know Silverstream pretty well, do you?” The large grey tom sneered. 

“Is that what you're so upset about? The fact that we're friends?” The ginger tom choked out. Greystripe stepped off of the prone form of his friend, who was struggling to breathe. 

“She seemed way too cozy with you to be just friends.” Greystripe scowled. “She trusted you enough to tell you that she was having kits before she ever thought of telling me!” 

“Because she was scared of how you'd react! If you'd shown even a hint of this to her, she would've bolted. I had no idea she was so scared until just now, same as you.” 

“Why are you involved with her at all?” Greystripe snapped. 

“We could ask you the same.” Dustpelt growled, having risen to his paws. 

“What, did you think I wouldn't have something to say on this? You're so lucky I'm not telling anyone-! StarClan's kits, Greystripe, how could you be so mousebrained?! You couldn't possibly think this would end well! Fireheart might have been the first to find out, but I guarantee you, if he hadn't been holding us back, we would've followed you a long time ago!” 

“Well good for him.” Greystripe grumbled before stalking off. 

Dustpelt sighed, staring after their wayward denmate.

“I meant what I said. It'll be up to you or Greystripe to tell the Clan what's happened here.” 

“I'm not telling anyone anything until I know for a fact that Silverstream is alright and her kits are healthy. Then Greystripe can face the wrath of his Clanmates and I can say 'I told you so’ before I do the same.”

“I look forward to seeing his face.” Dustpelt snorted. “He's been acting like he's StarClan's gift to the Clans and snapping at us whenever we call him out. I look forward to this. And I can't wait to see Brackenpaw get his warrior name knowing that Greystripe did none of the work.” 

“That, I can say I look forward to.” Fireheart chirped. “I'll have done my job well, if both my apprentices are still good enough to keep up with yours.”

“Well, Cinderpaw took down Thornpaw with a move that she says you can do in your sleep and both she and Brackenpaw bring in their fair share of prey, so I'll say you're doing just fine.” 

“I just… I feel like I might not be paying as much attention as I can because I'm trying to mentor both of them and keep up with my dreams and bring in prey… what if I'm not enough for them?” 

“The fact that Bluestar has let this go on proves that you're more than enough. She believes in you, yes, but if she thought that Cinderpaw or Brackenpaw weren't progressing fast enough or being cared for properly, she would have assigned one of them to another cat by now. You can do this, and you've got us for when you feel like you can't. Let Greystripe be off in his own world. He'll get what StarClan thinks he deserves when the time comes.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” Fireheart muttered lowly. 

Pushing away heavy thoughts, he crept forward, jaws parted as he examined the scents of prey on the air. A faint breeze stirred the surface of the snow and brought a familiar smell. 

_ Rabbit!  _

Lifting his head, Fireheart could see the brown-furred creature snuffling under a clump of bracken, where a few green spikes of grass poked through the snow. He dropped into a hunting crouch, and delicately, pawstep by pawstep, drew closer. At the last moment, the rabbit sensed him and sprang up, but by then it was too late. Before it could even squeal, Fireheart pounced. Triumphantly, Fireheart padded back to the Dustpelt, dragging the rabbit along with him. 

“You've come a long way from having to get your prey chased to you.” The brown tabby chuckled warmly. Fireheart flicked his ears appreciatively and the pair walked back to camp.

As soon as Fireheart entered the clearing, he saw with relief that the pile of fresh-kill was swelling again after the morning patrols. Bluestar stood proudly beside it. “Well done, both of you,” she meowed as he and Dustpelt brought the rabbit and squirrel to the pile. 

“I think the medicine cats would appreciate that.” She offered. 

Nutleaf had taken to squirrel lovingly enough. It was now her favorite prey, so he was glad that Dustpelt had gotten one. 

Ducking under the ferns, Fireheart saw Yellowfang lying in the mouth of her den with her paws tucked under her chest. Nutleaf sat in front of her, her light brown fur fluffed up and warm amber eyes focused on the medicine cat’s broad face.

“Now, Nutleaf,” came the old cat’s rasping mew. “One-eye’s paw pads are cracked because of the cold. What are we going to do for her?” 

“Marigold leaves to ward off infection,” His sister replied promptly. “Ointment of yarrow to soften the pads and help them heal. Poppy seed if she’s in pain.” 

“Well done, young one.” purred Yellowfang. “You'll be a medicine cat yet.” Nutleaf sat up even straighter, and her eyes shone with pride. As Fireheart knew only too well, the medicine cat didn’t give praise lightly. “Right, you can take her the leaves and the ointment,” meowed Yellowfang. “She won’t need the poppy seed unless the cuts get worse.” Nutleaf stood up and was on her way into the den when she caught sight of Fireheart standing by the tunnel. Mewing in delight, she hurried over to him. Warmth bloomed in Fireheart's chest. It had taken a lot for Nutleaf to be anywhere other than in the nursery with her kits, but now she was interacting with the Clan like she was born to be a healer. Her eyes were dancing as she reached Fireheart.

“Fresh-kill!” she chirped around the leaves in her mouth. “Is that for us?!” 

“About time too!” grumbled Yellowfang, still sitting inside her den. “Mind you, the rabbit’s very welcome,” she added.

“We’ve had half the Clan in here since sunrise, complaining about some ache or other.” Yellowfang explained. Fireheart carried the rabbit across the clearing and dropped it in front of the older medicine cat. Yellowfang poked it with one paw.

“It might have a bit of flesh on its bones for once,” she remarked grudgingly. “All right, take the marigold leaves and yarrow to One-eye, and hurry back. If you’re quick, I might save you the squirrel.” Nutleaf snorted and brushed Yellowfang’s shoulder with the tip of her tail as she went past her into the den. Softly, Fireheart mewed, 

“How’s she doing? Is she settling down?” 

“She’s fine,” snapped Yellowfang. “Stop worrying about her.” Fireheart wished he could. Nutleaf was his sister. It had been his choice to bring her into the forest, and she's had nothing but grief ever since. Nutleaf almost got squished on the Thunderpath looking for him, she'd kitted early as a result. Her youngest, Flamekit was doomed from the start. He didn't last a quarter-moon. Patchkit had been close to StarClan, but thank the Stars for Yellowfang because both he and Swiftpaw made an excellent recovery. 

“Well, go on and do whatever you warriors do. Nutleaf and I will be just fine here in the medicine den.” 

Fireheart dipped his head and padded out of the clearing, Dustpelt at his side. 

“You should see what Sandstorm got up to. I'm going to take Thornpaw and go beg the elders for stories while we clean their den.”

“Good luck with that.” Fireheart snorted. Thornpaw would spend all his time hunting, if he could. 

“And you with Sandstorm. Even StarClan couldn't know what she has planned for you.” 

Fireheart gulped and the two cars split ways. 

The brown tabby to the elders den and Fireheart to the Warriors den. 

“Fireheart!” 

Cinderpaw pranced to his side, a solemn Brackenpaw in tow. 

“Brackenpaw won't tell me why you guys took him hunting without me and he won't tell me what you guys caught. So can we go hunting, just the three of us?” 

“Not hunting. Perhaps I'll check your battle skills, but I need to find Sandstorm first. Stay right here.” 

The apprentices nodded and Fireheart continued to the warriors den.

Sure enough, Sandstorm laid in her nest with her eyes wide open, staring at the wall. 

“Want to come help me with battle practice?” Fireheart asked tentatively when he reached her nest. The tan she-cat lifted her head and nodded, confused. 

“I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me.” She meowed.

“What?” Her ginger mate demanded, shocked. “Why?” 

“I thought… nevermind what I thought. It's not true. Let's go.” 

So Fireheart followed a determined Sandstorm to where Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw waited for them. Brightpaw had joined them, and prattled on about a new move that she'd learned the other day. 

“That's nothing! Wait until you see the moves Fireheart does! I could stay up half the night trying to copy him and still not get the stance right!” 

“Because I learned them playfighting as a kittypet and incorporated them into my style as a warrior. You're supposed to come up with your own style, Brackenpaw, not copy mine.” 

“But your style is worth copying!” Cinderpaw chirped. 

“I'm honored that you think so, but why try mastering something when it doesn't work for you?” Fireheart countered. 

“Fireheart's moves help him in battle, but if I tried what he did, I'd be tripped up just like you guys are.” Sandstorm offered before turning to Fireheart. 

“Well, at least we know what we're working in today.” She snorted. 

“Definitely.” Fireheart sighed. 


	4. Three

It was sunset by the time they got back to camp, and he spotted Willowpelt waiting nervously by the entrance. 

“I hope you haven't been out here too long.” Fireheart found himself meowing, concerned. Willowpelt shook her head.

“You're kind to ask, but it'd barely been a few heartbeats. How was your day?” 

“Interesting.” He mused before turning to Sandstorm. 

“Willowpelt sat with me yesterday to ask a favor of me tonight, so I'll catch up with you later.” 

Sandstorm nodded, resigned, before padding off with the apprentices. 

“You should let her in more.” Willowpelt advised. “I might sound like the worst kind of hypocrite, but that's because I'm learning the exact same lesson the hard way. I don't want that for you, Fireheart. You can tell Sandstorm about this if she feels a way about you being gone.” 

“Thank you.” Fireheart mewed, stunned. “If it's alright with you, I would like to tell her. But only after we get through this, and only after I know you're alright.” 

“You're very kind, dear. Spottedleaf would be proud of the cat you've become.” 

Greystripe padded into camp to find Fireheart and Willowpelt talking, and growled at the ginger tom. 

“Do you have to be everywhere I turn?” He sneered. 

“Apparently so.” Fireheart snorted. “Go get your brother and find Whitestorm. Willowpelt has something she'd like to say.” 

Greystripe blinked shocked, and turned to his mother, who nodded somberly. 

“I will.” The grey tom breathed. “Whatever you're doing is helping, if she's willing to share with someone. So thank you.” He told Fireheart, touching muzzles with his so-called friend. 

The five of them padded up the ravine and a good ways into the forest before Willowpelt stopped and looked around. 

“I can make sure no one's listening.” Fireheart offered. Willowpelt shook her head and Fireheart warily remained seated. 

“We've been friends for quite a while, Whitestorm, and I think it's time you knew about Greystripe’s and Darkstripe's father.” 

Whitestorm nodded cautiously. 

“His name was Mallet, and he was… strange in the head, you could say. I was much younger when I had these two. You were there. You never asked questions, and I… you can't know how grateful I am to you. Mallet was a strange cat, and I didn't know what to do with him. I liked him well enough, but that wasn't enough for him. I wanted a friend, but he wanted a mate.” Her tone went sour, and Darkstripe started to back away. 

“Stay right where you are, boy. It doesn't matter who you look like, you'll always be  _ my _ son.” Willowpelt insisted. Darkstripe nodded and relaxed slightly, a haunted look in his eyes. 

“Mallet was… manipulative. He got me to stick around by threatening to hurt himself. Eventually I grew to love him, or I thought I did. And I had these two. After they were born, he wanted to see them. I gave him a choice. He could join the Clan and become a warrior, like me, or he could stay out of my life. If I was going to be around him, there had to be other cats or I'd fall right back under his spell. And he knew that. So he threw a fit. Started spitting madness about how I hated him and wanted him to die, how he couldn't live without me… I almost took it back. But I couldn't stay with him and focus in my Clan, and I didn't want to leave the forest. So I said no and went back to ThunderClan. I haven't seen him since.” 

“Good riddance.” Darkstripe scowled. “No wonder Tigerclaw didn't want anything to do with me. I'm probably as much of a hanger-on as he ever was.” 

“You wouldn't be in the Clan if you were.” Whitestorm scoffed. “He sounds slimy, like he could talk you into or out of just about anything, and Bluestar doesn't take those types of cats lightly. You earned your warrior name and managed to train an apprentice. You have Brindleface and your kits as proof that you are nothing like your sire, because they love you on their own. You're not doing anything to make them  _ not _ love you, and  _ that's _ the difference between the two of you.” 

Fireheart sat, stunned, as Whitestorm listed Darkstripe's accomplishments. It wasn't that Darkstripe looked up to Tigerclaw, because so had Dustpelt at some point. So had Longtail, and he'd turned into a great asset the first time around. So it wasn't that Darkstripe worshipped Tigerclaw. Fireheart had never seen a cat with such low self-esteem in either life, and it made him feel so much worse for missing this. Sure it probably wasn't the exact same situation in terms of Willowpelt, but Darkstripe had been pretty much the same in both lives, and Fireheart had completely written him off! 

“I think you would be a bit happier if you visited the nursery every few days.” The ginger tom found himself saying. 

Darkstripe stared at him through narrowed eyes. 

“What brings you here, anyway? I wasn't aware you were involved in any of this.” 

“Willowpelt has been helping me work out what some of my dreams mean. She listens to me no matter what I have to say, so it's only fair that I return the favor.” Fireheart meowed smoothly.

Darkstripe stared at him a bit more before nodding. 

“I'm glad you were able to help her talk about this. It's not the best thing to keep to yourself.”

Fireheart dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“If you ever think that you might end up like Mallet, look around you. You have a Clan that protects you and a family to call your own. He's got  _ nothing _ .” 

Darkstripe nodded. 

“You're right.” He muttered. “I think… I think maybe Tigerclaw lost sight of that.” 

“He might have.” Whitestorm mused. “But it's not something you should bring up to him. You don't have the same situation and he's a bit more… rash than anyone would expect you to be. Hang around Brindleface for a while.” The white tom advised. 

Darkstripe dipped his head, thankful for the advice. 

“I'm glad you've been able to keep my mother happy.” the black and silver tom admitted to Whitestorm. “You'll make a brilliant father, when the time comes.” 

He touched noses with the other three and nodded once to Fireheart before starting the trek back to camp. 

Greystripe turned to stare at Fireheart. 

“Why you?” He sneered. Fireheart shook his head, equally confused. He was the last cat on the list of Willowpelt's confidants, but the first one she turned to. “She could have picked anyone else. It didn't even have to be me or Darkstripe, but she picks the cat with no knowledge of the situation, someone who would make her relive all the trauma without-.”

“Judgment, for starters.” The grey tom's mother stopped his tirade in it's tracks with an icy tone. “And I would have had to tell anyone else I'd chosen the exact same tale, so sheathe your claws, hold your tongue and try understanding something for once in your life!” She barked out. “You've been walking around with your head in the clouds, acting like you own the Stars whenever anyone tries to call you out. I've been of a mind to figure out exactly who you've been seeing that has you such a way, but Spottedleaf often reminded me to let life play out when we were younger. You're my son and I love you dearly, Greystripe. I can't afford to lose you and Darkstripe, but if you're going to start down a dark path, it is one I won't follow. Simply know that I am here if you decide to turn back.” 

Fireheart thought, rather briefly, that a talk like this to Darkstripe would do him some good as well. 

Greystripe nodded, properly chastised, before approaching Fireheart and hissing in his ear.

“If you think you're so high and mighty because you've got my mother on your side then you've got another thing coming.” The larger tom sneered breathlessly.

“Pray that I tell her nothing.” Fireheart scoffed lowly.

The two toms nodded to each other and Greystripe, too, left the clearing. 

Fireheart fidgeted where he sat, suddenly uncomfortable. Willowpelt and Whitestorm probably had some things to work out, and yet Willowpelt refused to let him leave her side tonight. 

“You are a brave soul, Fireheart.” Whitestorm snorted. 

“Far from.” The ginger tom rebuffed. “I remain because Willowpelt has asked me to.” 

“And you shall remain until I say you can leave.” The pale grey she-cat insisted, casting a wary eye toward Whitestorm. The snow-furred tom was confused.

“You can’t possibly think I would change my mind about you?” He asked, mildly insulted. 

“I know nothing of how toms think just as you know nothing of my own thoughts.” Willowpelt scowled. “I would like to believe you sane, Whitestorm, and my feelings for you have merely increased, but…” 

Willowpelt trailed off and Whitestorm nodded, a knowing gleam in his eyes. 

“I will spend the rest of our lives together making it up to you. If you’ll still have me, that is.”

“Well I don’t intend to raise  _ these _ kits on my own, that’s for sure.” Willowpelt scowled. Fireheart fought the urge to laugh. Willowpelt knew well enough that the entire Clan would be clamoring for those kits. ThunderClan could always use more warriors and kits were wonderful news for any cat. She’d simply wished to surprise Whitestorm. And surprise him she did, because the frost-pelted tom was stunned beyond speech. 

“Well?” Willowpelt chuckled after a few heartbeats. 

“Kits?!” Whitestorm murmured breathlessly. “You’re having- we’ll have kits?” He whispered, eyes wide. 

“Yes.” Willowpelt snorted, wary now. 

“I can’t…” He muttered. “I… Ancestors above, Willowpelt, what do we do?!” He blurted out. “I couldn’t possibly-.”   
“Nutleaf thinks you’re doing a wonderful job with Cloudpaw.” Fireheart meowed quickly. “She’d worship the ground you walked on if you let her.”    
“But that’s different! Cloudpaw’s already been introduced to the world. I’m teaching him how to hunt and fight for his Clan!”

“If you think about it, Cloudpaw gets his cues from you. His father lives outside the Clans and you’re all he has to look up to.” Willowpelt mused. “So in a way, mentoring Cloudpaw will be  _ exactly _ like raising our kits.”

“You seem far too confident about this.” Whitestorm noticed.   
“Well you’re panicking when they’re still at least half a moon away.” Willowpelt teased. 

“Three-quarters.” Fireheart blurted out. “I wouldn’t have asked you to sit with me had I known you were so close to giving birth, and Bluestar will need to assign Splashpaw a temporary mentor, but you’re fine for now. Whitestorm, I know exactly what you’re thinking and it’s never going to happen. Those kits will grow up to be the best warriors they possibly can, and you’ll be a huge part of that.” The ginger tom implored his former mentor to understand that things would be alright, and the large white tom deflated. 

“I hope you’re right, Fireheart.” Whitestorm muttered bitterly. He nudged Willowpelt to her paws and the trio started back for camp. 

  
  



	5. Four

The first thing Fireheart did early the next morning was to visit the apprentice den. He felt like he’d been neglecting Cinderpaw’s training with all his worries, and after all the smoke-furred she-cat went through in her first life, she deserved to become a warrior alongside the rest of her siblings. When he shimmied outside the warriors den it was dawn. Sure enough, both his apprentices were asleep, curled up alongside their denamtes. 

He poked Brackenpaw with a sheathed paw, who in turn jabbed his sister’s flank. 

“Training?” The brown tom chirped. Fireheart nodded. 

“Yes!” Cinderpaw squealed. 

That roused the den, despite Fireheart’s efforts to keep quiet. He groaned as all nine apprentices stumbled blearily to their paws and stared at him expectantly. 

Well… he’d inadvertently woken them. They might as well have something to do. But first, he’d need a helper. 

“Cinderpaw woke you all up. Sorry for that. But the three of us are going on a patrol. Does anyone want to come with?” 

Much to his surprise, every apprentice flicked their tails excitedly. Some were eager to get out of camp while others simply wished to show off their skills. 

“Okay. I need to tell all your mentors, so stay here for now.” 

With that, Fireheart backed out of the apprentice den. Greystripe was on guard, probably as punishment for wandering off all the time. Tigerclaw didn’t know where the grey tabby spent most of his time, but when the larger deputy finally caught up to Greystripe, he didn’t waste any time. This was perfect, if only because perhaps Brackenpaw could get some training done with his actual mentor. Now all Fireheart had to do was get another cat to help out and tell Tigerclaw his plan. 

He loped back over to the warriors den to find the dark brown tabby wide awake in his nest, licking his forepaws. 

“You’re up early.” The deputy meowed, interested. 

“I was going to take Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw out but then the rest woke up and now they all want to go out. I was hoping to get someone to come with me and another cat to take over guard for Greystripe.” 

Tigerclaw nodded thoughtfully and got to his paws. 

“We can be the dawn patrol. Longtail can take over Greystripe’s guard. Swiftpaw’s about ready for his final assessment anyway.” 

Fireheart nodded uneasily, but loped back outside and padded over to Greystripe. 

“We’re the dawn patrol.” He began.

“Who’s coming with us?” Greystripe broke in warily. 

“Tigerclaw and the apprentices.”    
“ _ All _ of the apprentices?” He yelped. Fireheart nodded. 

“Cinderpaw woke them up.” He grumbled. “And you need to mentor Brackenpaw anyway.” 

Greystripe spat where Fireheart stood, and the ginger tom rolled his eyes. Tigerclaw emerged from the den with Longtail and Darkstripe. 

“Darkstripe will be joining our patrol.” Tigerclaw announced. “It’ll be easier to split the apprentices up this way.” 

Fireheart blinked, confused. That made no sense when there were nine apprentices. Wouldn’t it be easier to…? 

Tigerclaw elaborated with a roll of his eyes. 

“Three of them will go with Fireheart, three of them will go with Darkstripe, the rest will come with me. I want Greystripe with me at all times.”    
“What?!” The grey tom hissed, alarmed. 

“Since you cannot help your wandering paws, allow me to curb the urge for you. You will remain with me, and your apprentice will be watched to see how far behind he is. Thank your friends for proving able to make up for your neglect, but believe me, you are still walking fresh-kill.” Tigerclaw growled. Greystripe was sent to retrieve the apprentices, who all scampered out upon seeing the look on Greystripe’s face. 

They lined up in front of the warriors and waited for Tigerclaw to speak. 

“Cinderpaw, Cloudpaw and Brackenpaw will be with me.” The dark tabby began. “Patchpaw, Splashpaw and Swiftpaw will be with Darkstripe. Thornpaw, Brightpaw and Lightpaw will go with Fireheart.” The deputy decided. “We will all take different routes to the Sandy Hollow, and meet there before sunhigh. The patrol that catches the most prey for the Clan wins. And if we’re going to do this right, the first thing you catch will be your meal, but that’s it. This is a one-time thing, are we understood?” Tigerclaw demanded. After getting positive responses from the apprentices, he turned to Fireheart and Darkstripe. 

“You both know my standards and you both have proven yourselves capable of watching out for the Clan’s youngsters. I entrust you both with the Clan’s future, so don’t mess this up.” The last part turned into a growl, and both toms nodded their understanding. Fireheart blinked. He’d never seen Tigerclaw so… parental? He hadn’t even known the tom to be capable of such sentiment! 

“Goldenflower will have my kits in the coming moons.” Tigerclaw murmured, seeing Fireheart’s confused stare. “As such, she is very protective of the apprentices and other queens. Keeps badgering me to ensure their safety.” 

When Fireheart first arrived to the forest, right after a battle for Sunningrocks, Goldenflower had soothed his nerves and spoken quite highly of her mate. The yellow she-cat loved the dark brown tabby dearly, and it had showed then. It showed even now. 

“Let’s go before the dawn breaks fully.” Tigerclaw meowed, jerking Fireheart out of his thoughts. 

The three patrols bid Longtail farewell, with Swiftpaw touching noses with his mentor before racing after Darkstripe. 

Fireheart led Brightpaw, Thornpaw and Lightpaw up the ravine. The patrol had been forced to accommodate Lightpaw’s stamina, though Brightpaw and Thornpaw were really sweet about it, gently telling tales of their first days out. Eventually, the older littermates asked to split up. Fireheart nodded. 

“Don’t go too far. You need to be within yowling distance, so let’s stick with twenty snake-lengths from the tree’s end.” He insisted. Both siblings nodded and dashed off excitedly. 

Fireheart turned to Lightpaw. 

“We’re going to stay here and wait for them to come back because we don’t want them getting lost. Has Runningwind shown you any hunting or fighting moves?” Fireheart wondered. Lightpaw nodded. It had been a couple days since he was apprenticed, so Fireheart didn’t expect him to know too much. They went through basic stances for hunting while they waited, and Thornpaw came back first. He carried two small mice and a squirrel. 

“Did you find a nest?” Fireheart wondered. This was far too good for leafbare. 

“I think so. You’d think they’d know not to leave, but all three of these were out looking for nuts and stuff. I didn’t see which tree they came out of and I couldn’t trace the scent.” The golden brown tom mewed forlornly. 

“That’s alright, though. It means more prey in the future.” Fireheart offered. “I’m surprised than you managed to catch what you did. Hopefully Brightpaw will have as much luck.” 

Brightpaw came back with an extremely plump finch. 

“That’s very good.” Fireheart mused. “Where’d you find it?”    
“I almost had to leap from a tree!” Brightpaw chirped happily around her catch. 

“You  _ what _ ?!” Fireheart hissed, alarmed. 

The ginger and white apprentice drew back and flattened her ears.

“It wasn’t a very high jump.” She protested. “I’ve seen Sandstorm do it before.” 

“Show me.” The ginger tom growled, fuming. 

So Brightpaw sped over to a nearby tree and  _ leapt _ about half a fox-length into the air before scraping her claws against the rough bark of the trunk. She then sprang outward, as she were a bird herself, and made a swiping motion before landing neatly on her paws. It vaguely reminded him of SkyClan, and he remembered what some of the ancestors said about how the ancient Clan had kept some of their queens and elders in ThunderClan. 

“That was very clever,” Fireheart meowed slowly. “but please never do that unless you know another Clanmate is nearby. I’ll be telling Sandstorm the same, so you shouldn’t be in trouble.” The warrior reassured his mate’s apprentice. Stars, Sandstorm was a full-grown cat and Fireheart had no qualms about dragging her down to the ground just as he would have Brightpaw. He resisted the urge. Brightpaw was not his charge and growing up in her own way. Sandstorm could take care of herself. 

They reached the Sandy Hollow to find Darkstripe’s patrol had placed their prey in a medium-sized pile at the edge of the follow and had split into two groups. Patchpaw faced Swiftpaw and Splashpaw faced Darkstripe. The tortoiseshell she-cat trembled at the mere fact that he towered over her. Darkstripe sighed and repositioned himself so that he lay down, paws tucked under him and tail flicking back and forth. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmured. “I just want to know if Willowpelt has taught you anything about hunting or fighting.” 

Fireheart froze. It would seem that Splashpaw had inherited her mother’s shyness. Now that Fireheart thought about it, Splashpaw often stuck with one of her siblings or in the nursery. She never truly wandered around camp and when Cloudpaw, Ashpaw and Fernpaw went on their “hunting expedition” Splashpaw had hidden in the elder’s den for more than a few days. It had taken Nutleaf, Fireheart, Brindleface and Goldenflower to tell her that it was okay to go outside. 

The tortoiseshell she-cat crouched awkwardly before the black and silver tom. Darkstripe leaned forward and lowered her stance. Splashpaw tripped suddenly, and careened right into Darkstripe’s face! 

The black and silver tom snorted and nudged her to her paws. 

“On your feet, kit. You’ll never learn to keep your balance if you don’t fall over a few times. Try again, and do your best to remember the stance I had you in rather than what your first instinct is.” 

Meanwhile, Thornpaw and Patchpaw were gearing up for a sparring match. 

“No claws, you two.” Fireheart reminded them. Thornpaw nodded and Patchpaw sheathed his embarrassedly. They were about to start when Cinderpaw crashed into the Sandy hollow, Cloudpaw not far behind. 

“Greystripe's in trouble!” The dark grey she-cat panted. “He's irritated Tigerclaw one too many times.” 

Both warriors groaned at the announcement. 

“It was only a matter of time.” Darkstripe sighed. “Go deal with my brother. I'll keep an eye on the apprentices.” 

Fireheart nodded his thanks before ordering Cinderpaw to lead the way. 


	6. Five

They weren't even that far from the hollow. Just out of shouting distance, which explains how the rest didn't notice something was off. Fireheart spotted Brackenpaw first. His fur was bushed up and his ears slicked back. His tail twitched fearfully. Next was Greystripe, claws partly out and low to the ground, hissing and spitting at the deputy, who towered over him. 

“He's  _ my _ apprentice! I shouldn't have to lower my standards just because you think I'm not doing my job!” 

“You're  _ not _ doing your job! You're not doing  _ anything _ ! You don't hunt, you're never around when it's time to fight, and just now Brackenpaw showed you a move that you don't even know because he's been training with Fireheart more than he has with you! Until you can prove to be a valuable member of this Clan, you will be where I can see you at all times! Every hunting and border patrol, every time Brackenpaw goes out, so will you. You won't even make  _ dirt _ unless I say you can!” 

“And what happens if I want to go hunting and you don't? Or if you're in the nursery with Goldenflower? Surely you can't expect me to follow you everywhere? And since you're so intent on taking my apprentice away, who will train him better than me?” 

“If you two are done scaring all the creatures in the forest out of their wits, I believe we have training to do.” Fireheart scoffed, tone biting like the current chill of leaf-bare wind.

Greystripe looked up, furious, before relaxing into a normal stance. 

“Tell him how well Brackenpaw is doing.” Greystripe scowled. 

Well, Fireheart couldn't exactly lie about that. 

“What would you like to know about Brackenpaw’s training?” Fireheart asked calmly. 

“Why you're in charge of it.” Tigerclaw growled. 

“That's something the four of us have worked out. After a training session where I performed a series of moves from my kittypet days, we put more emphasis on our apprentices developing their own styles instead of just copying ours. Brackenpaw seems more similar to me in terms of the fighting moves we all practice, so it's only natural that Greystripe wouldn't know every move he's doing.” 

“Who does Cinderpaw take after? Sandstorm?” Tigerclaw sneered. 

“Yes, actually. Have you  _ seen _ the mounds of prey those two bring back? Whatever Greystripe wants to do isn't my business, but we’ve got the training routines down well enough. It's working, Tigerclaw. If you want to monitor Greystripe then go ahead, but please don't punish Brackenpaw for his mentor’s decisions.” 

“Did you come up with that load of fox-dung on your own or have you been covering for  _ all _ of your friends?” 

“I've been doing my job as a warrior. Greystripe can handle his own business.” 

“You would think so…” Tigerclaw growled before whipping around to face the grey tabby.

“If you disappear again… don't bother coming back.” 

Tigerclaw stormed away after that, and Fireheart sighed. 

“Let’s go, Brackenpaw. We've got a training session in the hollow.” 

“Don't order my apprentice around when you've got your own.” Greystripe sneered. 

“Tigerclaw was right about one thing.” Fireheart snorted. “You're not worthy of your warrior name if you don't contribute to the Clan. Brackenpaw will be following my directions until you decide where your loyalties lie.” 

“I know exactly where my loyalties lie! I'm more of a ThunderClan cat than you'll ever be!” Greystripe snarled. 

“Prove it.” Fireheart chuckled darkly. “Bring back food for the elders and queens. Fight for your Clan! Mentor your apprentice! Do something,  _ anything _ , to make me believe that you're worth sticking up for, because I've just about had it with you, and if Sandstorm and Tigerclaw are anything to go by, so have the rest of the Clan.” 

Fireheart proceeded to ignore his would-be friend and turned to the golden-brown apprentice the arguing pair had left in their wake.

“We're going to train now, Brackenpaw.” The ginger tom meowed, moving so that he stood between Greystripe and his apprentice. Brackenpaw held his gaze evenly, nodding once and shuffling his paws to move… 

“Watch out!” He cried, freezing up once more. 

Fireheart lunged forward to cover the younger tom as his furious mentor careened into both of them. Instantly, the ginger tom recalled doing the same for Nutleaf on the Thunderpath. All he could do was squish the younger tom to the forest floor, eyes slammed shut as the monster rained down on them… 

Suddenly, the hot stench was gone. And so was Brackenpaw! 

“What?!” 

Fireheart hopped to his paws to find the golden brown apprentice glaring at the Thunderpath creature.

“I won’t let you hurt him anymore!” The younger tom snarled. 

“Brackenpaw, wait!” Fireheart yelped. “That’s a monster! They don’t speak Cat and they’re too big to fight. Get back here before you get hurt!” 

“What?!” The monster blurted out. 

What in the-? Could monsters speak Cat? 

“I am a cat, you mouse-brain!” The monster scowled. “A ThunderClan cat, just like you!”    
“You’re  _ nothing _ like Fireheart!” Brackenpaw sneered. “Fireheart actually  _ cares _ about his Clan!”

“You…” The monster froze in its tracks. “You think I don’t care about you? Brackenpaw, I’m your mentor!”    
“Well you haven’t been doing a very good job.” Brackenpaw scoffed. “And you’ve just injured the last cat willing to stick up for you.” 

Fireheart didn’t understand. Why was Brackenpaw talking to the monster?! And why was the monster talking back?! Monsters couldn’t reason like cats. They just bowled them over and went on about their way! 

“I’m going to tell the others what’s happened. If you’re smart, you won’t be here when I come back for Fireheart.”

“Brackenpaw-!” The monster snarled. 

“Go!” The smaller tom growled. The monster took off with its tail between its legs and Brackenpaw turned to a dazed Fireheart. 

“You’re bleeding a lot. What do you put on open wounds?” Brackenpaw asked, voice tinged with fear. 

“Cobwebs.” Fireheart mumbled. “Sticky. On bushes. You chased off a monster.” He purred tiredly. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Fireheart, I need you to stay awake, I’ll get the cobwebs just- Fireheart!” 

That was the last thing the ginger tom heard before everything went black. 


	7. Six

Pain was, surprisingly, not the first thing he felt upon waking up. The first thing he felt was  _ panic _ . 

“Brackenpaw!” He yowled frantically. All he could think of was the tom’s lifeless body, crushed by the a monster like his sister had almost been, all because he’d been so stupidly brave… 

“I’m here.” The brown tom murmured lowly. “I’m here and I’m fine. Greystripe is gone.” He informed the ginger tom. Fireheart blinked, stunned. 

Greystripe was on the Thunderpath?! Was he okay?

“There was no Thunderpath, Fireheart. You and Greystripe were arguing about him being lazy. He attacked you after you tried to block him from reaching me.”    


Fireheart froze up as clarity washed over him. 

Stars… Brackenpaw had risked his own life for Fireheart… 

“You mouse-brain!” Fireheart spat. “You fox-hearted fool, are you feather-headed or something?!”    


“What? No!” Brackenpaw spluttered. 

“He could have killed you! He could have killed you and you just stood there and yelled at him-!”    


“I couldn’t let him hurt you!” Brackenpaw wailed. “Not after everything you’ve done for me.”    


“You didn’t think-!”    


“I knew exactly what I was doing, Fireheart. And so did Greystripe. That’s why he ran away.”    


“Why are you up?!” Nutleaf burst into the medicine den, scattering herbs in her harried attempt to talk. “Why are you talking, for that matter?! Brackenheart, go get Yellowfang, Sandstorm, Dustpelt and Tigerclaw.” 

Brackenpaw dipped his head and scurried off. Fireheart blinked, stunned. 

“He got his warrior name?” The ginger tom murmured. 

“Along with Swiftclaw and his siblings. It’s just my four in the apprentice den now.” 

“We might have to expand soon.” Fireheart yawned. 

“That’s not yours to worry about.” Nutleaf insisted. “Try to relax before you reopen the bandages.”

“What?”    


“Lay down!” His sister scowled, pushing him into the nest. Fireheart let himself go limp and settled for licking a paw. 

“What happened to the rest of the patrol?”    


“Brackenheart told the others what he saw and you were carried back to camp. It was about the time for every cat to be getting up, so imagine our surprise when the patrol of apprentices brings back an injured warrior.”    


“Where’d Tigerclaw and Darkstripe go?”    


“To chase Greystripe off the territory, I guess. Darkstripe was especially heated. Ever since he got back he’s been pacing the clearing and muttering about some rogue. Maggot or something.”   


“Mallet?” Fireheart hissed, struggling to his paws. “Where’s Darkstripe now?!” He demanded. 

“He’ll be here, don’t worry. Tigerclaw was furious when he saw what you looked like. Would have gone back out to find Greystripe himself but Whitestorm convinced him that it had to be a misunderstanding. Then the apprentices got their warrior names and now we’re here. It hasn’t been that long.” Nutleaf reassured him. 

_ Thank you StarClan for small mercies… _

Brackenheart returned with Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, Sandstorm and Dustpelt in tow. 

“How do you feel?” Sandstorm murmured, slipping into the nest beside Fireheart. 

“I’m fine.” He purred, nudging her shoulder. “I might have been given one too many poppyseeds because I can’t feel a thing!” He chirped. 

“The apprentices brought you in… StarClan above, we thought you were dead.” She whispered, ducking so that her words were muffled into his fur. 

“Greystripe wouldn’t do that.” Fireheart objected. “”He can be stubborn and ridiculous, but he’s not a killer.”    


“We don’t know what Greystripe is capable of.” Darkstripe sneered. “Willowpelt all but fainted when she heard what he’d done.”    


“Greystripe was angry that I undermined his authority as a mentor. You know what it’s like to be jealous of someone, Darkstripe.” Fireheart warned. “All he needs to do is get his head on straight and he’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”    


Sandstorm snorted and Darkstripe nodded warily. 

“In the meantime, you’ve been getting injured far too often for my liking. This Clan needs you alive, so until further notice, someone will accompany you out of camp.”

“Whitestorm tried that.” Fireheart yawned. “It didn’t work out the way he wanted it to. It’s not that I’m ignoring your orders, Tigerclaw. It’s that I have too much to do for you to be so paranoid.” 

“Sometimes, paranoid is best.” Tigerclaw growled. 

“And sometimes you smother the cats you want to look out for. Ask Brightpaw why I reamed her out about jumping from a low branch earlier today. As for me, I’ll be just fine. StarClan’s invested too much of their time for anything else to be true. Good day, Tigerclaw. I’m tired.” 

So Tigerclaw left, grumbling angrily about increasing patrols. Fireheart desperately hoped that Greystripe was far away by now.

* * *

Yellowfang insisted that Fireheart be brought his share of prey like his legs were the problem. His back had been shredded. The rest of him was fine! 

But it was nice to lean on Sandstorm. 

“Why does it seem like you getting hurt brings us closer together?” She sighed later that night. 

“It’s not something I strive for, believe me.” Fireheart murmured. “You know I love you, right?”    


“Of course, mouse-brain. We no longer have apprentices, so that means we’ve got all the time in the world.” The tan she-cat snorted. 

“Nobody else visited me today.” The ginger tom yawned. “What are their names?” 

“Brackenheart, Cinderpelt, Brightstorm, Thornclaw, and Swiftclaw.” Sandstorm chirped happily. 

“Three normal names and two arrogant furballs who decided to name themselves after their mentors.” Fireheart snickered. “And a third-generation -storm.”

“Yeah, Brackenheart said he wanted to honor you. Apparently you were a good mentor.” Sandstorm joked.   
“Apparently so.” Fireheart mused thoughtfully. 


	8. Seven

Fireheart padded toward the camp with a vole clamped firmly in his jaws. The sun shone from a brilliantly blue sky, and already, a quarter-moon after the patrol gone wrong, most of the snow was gone. Buds were swelling and a mist of tiny green leaves was beginning to cover the trees. More important, prey was reappearing in the forest. 

Already it was easier to replenish the pile of fresh-kill, and for the first time in moons the Clan was full-fed. Fireheart arrived in the clearing to find the queens raking old bedding out of the nursery. When he had dropped his prey on the pile of fresh-kill and went across to lend a paw, he was pleased to see that Ashkit and Fernkit were there. 

“I’m going to show the other kits the good moss place!” The speckled tom meowed to his freckled sister they staggered past with a load of bedding. 

“Good idea,” Fireheart agreed. He’d noticed that Ashkit and Fernkit liked to help the apprentices with their chores. “Watch out for badgers, though!” 

Goldenflower emerged from the nursery just then, pushing a ball of soiled moss in front of her. Her belly was round with the weight of the kits she carried. 

“Hello, Fireheart,” she meowed. “Isn’t it great to see the sun again?” 

Fireheart purred and gave the queen’s shoulder a friendly lick. 

Goldenflower had been one of the few cats who accepted him without question when he first arrived in ThunderClan, and though he eventually gained the respect of his Clanmates, the queens remained his greatest support.

“Soon it’ll be newleaf,” he chirped. “Just in time for your kits.” He broke off as he heard Tigerclaw calling his name from behind. 

“If you’ve nothing better to do than have my mate fuss over you, I need you to do something for me.” Fireheart bit back an angry response. He’d been hunting all morning, and paused for only a few moments to talk to Goldenflower. 

“Of course, Tigerclaw.” 

“What exactly do you need Fireheart to do that no other warrior can?” Goldenflower purred sweetly. The deputy balked at his mate’s tone, but went on addressing Fireheart.

“Take a patrol along the border of RiverClan,” He ordered. “No cat has been that way for a few days, and now that the snow has gone, we need to renew our scent markings.” 

“Yes, Tigerclaw,” Fireheart dipped his head. “Who should I take with me?” 

Tigerclaw had made good on his threat of keeping Fireheart in camp, and he knew certain cats were better for keeping an eye on the ginger tom. Brackenheart and Whitestorm, in particular, were overprotective to the extreme. Right alongside Willowpelt and Goldenflower, but they were stuck in camp so they couldn’t follow him anywhere. Cinderpelt, on the other paw, could get rather clingy. Rightfully so, considering he’d been responsible for her training, but still… 

“I guess you’ve earned the right to take any cat you wish. Now that you’re not haring off into danger. Do try not to ruin that, Fireheart.” 

By now Fireheart could barely keep his tongue curbed; he would have loved to swipe a claw over the deputy’s scarred muzzle. He nodded politely to Goldenflower and headed for the warriors’ den. Sandstorm was there, lying on her side and energetically washing, while Brackenheart and Runningwind shared tongues nearby. Runningwind was a friend of Fireheart’s and knew Greystripe rather well. He’d been shocked by Brackenheart’s tale, and had resolved to keep a good eye out for the younger tom. 

“Who’s up for a patrol?” Fireheart called. “Tigerclaw wants us to check the RiverClan border.” Brackenheart scrambled to his paws, while Runningwind took his time. Sandstorm paused in her washing and looked up at Fireheart. 

“Just when I was hoping for a bit of peace,” she complained. “I’ve been hunting since dawn.” She purred good-naturedly. 

“Me too!” Fireheart grumbled. It was good to be out of camp after being fussed over, but stars if he wasn’t tired! 

Fireheart led the way out of the camp, feeling a tingle in his paws as he leaped up the side of the ravine. It felt like moons since he’d had a good run without snow to freeze his paws off, and he wanted to stretch his muscles. 

“We’ll head for the Sunningrocks,” he decided, “and follow the border up to Fourtrees.”

He set a brisk pace through the trees, but not so fast that he failed to notice the brilliant green fronds of new bracken beginning to unfurl, or the first pale buds of primroses pushing out of their green coverings. Birdsong filled the air, and the fresh scent of growing things. He slowed down as the patrol approached the edge of the forest. Ahead of him he could hear the sound of the river, free at last from its bonds of ice. 

“We’re almost at the border,” he meowed quietly. “From here on we have to keep alert. There may be RiverClan cats about.” Brackenheart stopped and opened his jaws to drink in scent from the breeze. 

“I can’t smell any,” he reported. Fireheart wondered if he was searching for Greystripe. “Besides, they’ll have plenty of prey now that the river’s unfrozen. Why should they come and steal ours?” 

“I wouldn’t put anything past RiverClan,” growled Runningwind. “They’d steal the fur off your back if you didn’t keep an eye on them.” Fireheart snorted and raced through the last of the trees, bursting out onto open ground. What he saw there brought him skidding to a halt. In front of the cats, the land sloped gently down to the river—or what had been the river. Swelled by the melting snow, the fast-flowing water had burst the banks and risen until it lapped the grass barely a rabbitlength from Fireheart’s paws. The tips of reeds just showed above it; farther upstream, the Sunningrocks were gray islands in the midst of a shimmering silver lake. The thaw had certainly come, but now the river was in full flood.

* * *

“Great StarClan!” breathed Sandstorm. The other two cats grunted in agreement, but Fireheart was speechless with horror. He had instantly recognized the shining expanse of water, and now he recalled Spottedleaf’s ominous words: 

_ Water can quench fire.  _

Fear chilled him as he struggled to understand how this flood could threaten his Clan, so that he was hardly aware of Brackenheart trying to attract his attention until the golden-brown cat pressed up close to his side. The land was lower on the RiverClan bank, so the floodwaters could spread much farther. As for the camp on the island…Fireheart wondered how much of that was underwater. He couldn’t afford to have anything happen to Silverstream, Greenflower, Stonefur or Mistyfoot! He didn’t want to imagine them driven out of their camp, or worse, drowned. Runningwind had padded right to the water’s edge and was gazing out across the river. 

“RiverClan isn’t going to like this,” he remarked. “And a good thing, too. It’ll keep them off our territory.” Fireheart tensed at the note of satisfaction in Runningwind’s voice. He shot his friend a look.

“That doesn’t mean I want them harmed, Fireheart. I just think this could be more of a boundary.” 

“Well, we can’t patrol the border now,” he pointed out. “We’d better get back to camp and report this.”

* * *

As soon as Bluestar heard the news she leaped to the top of the Highrock and gave the familiar call: “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting.” 

Cats poured into the clearing to hear the news, and Fireheart inhaled deeply. He had to get used to addressing cats in big crowds again. Fireheart took his place at the front of the crowd, noticing that his nephews and niece were right outside the apprentice den. He saw Yellowfang and Nutleaf listening from the mouth of the fern tunnel. The bright morning was coming to an end. Clouds were massing to cover the face of the sun, and the gentle breeze had strengthened until a stiff wind blew across the clearing, flattening the fur of the cats who crouched around the Highrock. Fireheart shivered, and didn’t know whether it was from cold or apprehension. 

“Cats of ThunderClan,” meowed Bluestar. “Our camp may be in danger. The snow has gone, but the river has burst its banks. Part of our territory is already flooded.” 

A chorus of dismay rose from the Clan, but Bluestar raised her voice above the yowls. “Fireheart, tell the Clan what you have seen.” Se ordered. So the ginger tom described how the river had overflowed near the Sunningrocks.

“It doesn’t sound that dangerous to us,” meowed Longtail when he had finished. “We have plenty of territory left for prey. Let RiverClan worry about the floods.” A murmur of approval broke out, although Fireheart noticed that Tigerclaw stayed silent. He sat at the base of the Highrock, motionless except for the twitching tip of his tail. 

“Silence!” spat Bluestar. “The water could spread here before we know it. Something like this is bigger than Clan rivalry. I don’t want to hear that any RiverClan cats have died from these floods.” Fireheart noticed a hot glow in her eyes as she spoke, as if her words meant more than she had said.He remembered then why she would be so harsh about this. Patchpelt spoke up from among the elders. 

“I remember the last time the river overflowed, many moons ago. Cats from all Clans drowned. Prey drowned, too, and we went hungry even though our paws stayed dry. This is not just RiverClan’s problem.” The black and white tom insisted.

“Well said, Patchpelt.” Bluestar meowed gratefully. “I remember those days, too, and I hoped I would never have to see such times again. Since it has happened, these are my orders: No cat is to go out alone. Kits and apprentices must not leave the camp without at least one warrior. Patrols will go out to discover how far the floods reach—Tigerclaw, see to it.” 

“Yes, Bluestar,” meowed the deputy. “I’ll send out hunting patrols, too. We must build up a stock of prey before the water rises any further.” 

“Good idea,” agreed Bluestar. She raised her voice again to address the whole Clan. “The meeting is over. Tend to your duties.” She leaped down lightly from the Highrock and padded across to talk with Patchpelt and the other elders.

Brackenheart bounded across the clearing, nearly crashing into his former mentor.

“We have to make sure your friends are okay!” The younger tom blurted out. Fireheart nodded just as Tigerclaw flicked his tail for the two of them. 

“You were just over by Sunningrocks, but check again. Make sure RiverClan hasn’t been washed away by the flood.” 

Fireheart dipped his head and the pair were off. 

Side by side, the two warriors scrambled up the steep, rocky slope. As they headed into the forest, retracing the steps of their earlier patrol, Fireheart noticed how muddy the ground was underpaw. The melted snow had soaked the earth like the heaviest rainfall, even without the deadly spread of floodwater from the river. When they reached the edge of the trees Fireheart realized that the water had risen even farther. The Sunningrocks were almost submerged now, and the current swirled around them in tight circles. 

Fireheart stifled a mew of panic. Hopefully no one was out here! 

He was about to follow the brown tom when he froze and twitched his ears: Someone  _ was _ out here! 

A thin, wailing sound, above the wind and the rushing of the torrent. 

“Wait,” he called. “Did you hear that?” Brackenheart looked back, and both cats stood, ears pricked, straining to catch the sound. Then Fireheart heard it again—the panic-stricken mewing of kits in distress. 

“Where are they?” he meowed, looking all around and up into the trees. “I can’t see them!” 

“There.” Brackenheart flicked his tail in the direction of the Sunningrocks. “Fireheart, they’ll drown!” Fireheart saw that the current had driven a mat of twigs and debris up against the Sunningrocks. Two kits balanced precariously on it, their tiny mouths stretched wide as they wailed for help. Even as Fireheart watched, the current tugged at the mat, threatening to sweep it away. 

“Come on!” he yowled to Brackenheart. “We’ve got to reach them somehow!”


	9. Eight

Taking a deep breath, he waded into the flood. The water soaked into his fur at once, and a paralyzing, icy chill crept up his legs. The tug of the current made it harder to stay on his paws with every step he took. Brackenheart splashed in behind him, but when the water reached his belly fur he stopped. 

“Fireheart…” he choked out. 

Fireheart twisted around to give him a comforting nod. He could understand how the river might terrify Brackenheart, after watching Greystripe nearly drown as a new apprentice. 

“Stay there,” he meowed. “I’ll try to push the mat over to you.” Brackenheart nodded, trembling too violently to speak. 

Fireheart waded forward a few more paces, then launched himself into the current and began to swim, thrashing his legs instinctively to push himself through the black water. They were upstream of the Sunningrocks; if StarClan was kind, he should be carried down toward the kits. For a moment he lost sight of them in the wind-ruffled waves, though he could still hear their terrified cries. Then the smooth gray bulk of a Sunningrock loomed up beside him. He kicked out strongly, fearing for one panic-stricken heartbeat that he would be swept right past. The current swirled; Fireheart’s paws worked furiously, and the river tossed him against the rock, driving the breath out of his body. He scrabbled at the rough surface, bracing himself against the rushing water, and found himself face-to-face with the two kits. They were both very small, he noticed.  _ Probably still suckling from their mother. _

One was black and the other grey, their fur plastered against their tiny bodies, and their brilliant blue eyes wide with terror. They were crouched on a tangled mat of twigs, leaves, and Twoleg rubbish, but when they saw Fireheart they started to scramble toward him. The mat lurched and their wails grew louder as river water sloshed over them. 

“Keep still!” Fireheart gasped, paddling madly against the current. Briefly he wondered if he could climb onto the rock and haul the kits up with him, but he was not sure how long it would be before the Sunningrocks were completely submerged. His best plan was still to push the mat over to Brackenheart. Looking back, he saw that his friend had already moved downstream, into a good position to catch the mat as it was swept toward him. 

“Here we go,” Fireheart muttered. 

_ StarClan help us!  _

He pushed himself off from the rock, thrusting at the mat with his muzzle to guide it into the current. The two kits whimpered and flattened themselves against the twigs. 

Fireheart put every last scrap of energy into pushing the mat ahead of him with his nose and paws. He could feel exhaustion draining the strength from his limbs. His fur was soaked, and he was so cold he could hardly breathe. Raising his head and blinking water out of his eyes, he realized with horror that he had lost sight of Brackenheart and the bank. It seemed as if there was nothing in the world but the churning water, the fragile mat of twigs, and the two terrified kits. Then he heard the former apprentice’s voice, sounding close by. 

“Fireheart! Fireheart, here!” The ginger tom thrust again at the mat, trying to propel it toward the voice. It spun away from him, and his head went under. Coughing and choking, he clawed his way back to the surface, to see Brackenheart pacing on dry land just a few tail-lengths away.

For a heartbeat Fireheart felt relief that he was nearly there. Then he focused his blurred eyes on the kits again, and fear pulsed through him. The mat was beginning to break up. Fireheart watched helplessly as the twigs underneath the gray kit gave way and the tiny creature was plunged into the torrent. 

“No!” Brackenheart howled, lunging for the swollen waters. 

Fireheart lost sight of them. The remaining kit squealed desperately, trying to cling to the twigs as they were split apart by the current. With the last of his strength Fireheart drove himself forward, sank his teeth into the little creature’s scruff, and kicked out for dry ground. Within moments he felt stones under his paws and managed to stand. Stone-limbed with weariness, he staggered out and dropped the black kit on the grass at the edge of the flood. Its eyes were closed; he was not sure if it was still alive. Glancing downstream, he saw Brackenheart splashing out of the shallows, with the gray kit gripped firmly in his teeth. He padded up to Fireheart and set it gently on the ground. Fireheart nosed both kits. They were lying very still, but when Fireheart looked closer he could see the faint rise and fall of their flanks as they breathed. 

“Thank you, StarClan!” he muttered. He began to lick the black kit as he had seen the queens in the nursery do to their little ones, rasping his tongue against the lie of the fur to rouse the kit and warm it. Brackenheart crouched beside him and did the same for the gray kit. Soon the black kit twitched and coughed up a mouthful of river water. It took longer for the gray kit to respond, but at last it too coughed up water and opened its eyes. 

“They’re alive!” exclaimed Brackenheart, his voice filled with relief. 

“Yes, but they won’t live long without their mother,” Fireheart pointed out. He sniffed the black kit carefully. The river water had washed off much of the Clan scent, but he could still detect a faint trace. 

“RiverClan,” he mewed, unsurprised. “We’ll have to take them home.” Fireheart’s courage almost deserted him for good at the thought of crossing the swollen river. He had almost drowned rescuing the kits, and he felt exhausted. His limbs were cold and stiff, and his fur was soaked. He wanted nothing more than to creep into his own den and sleep for a moon. Brackenheart, still crouched over the gray kit, looked as if he felt the same. His thick gray fur was flattened against his body, and his amber eyes were wide with anxiety. 

“Do you think we can get across?” he meowed. 

“We’ve got to, or the kits will die.” Forcing himself to his paws, Fireheart picked up the black kit again by its scruff and headed downstream. “Let’s see if we can cross by the stepping-stones, like you said.” 

Brackenheart padded after him, carrying the gray kit through the wet grass at the edge of the floodwater. When the river was at its usual level, the stepping-stones were an easy route across for RiverClan cats. The longest leap from rock to rock was no more than a tail-length, and RiverClan controlled the territory here on both sides of the river. Now, floodwater completely covered the stones. But where they had once broken the surface, a dead tree, its bark stripped away, lay across the river. Fireheart guessed that some of its branches had been caught on the submerged stepping-stones. 

“Thank StarClan!” he exclaimed. “We can use the tree to cross.” He adjusted his grip on the kit and waded out into the flood toward the splintered end of the tree trunk. The kit, seeing the churning water barely a mouse-length below its nose, began to mewl and struggle feebly.

“Keep still, both of you,” Brackenheart grumbled, as he struggled to adjust his grip. “We’re going to find your mother.” 

Fireheart wasn’t sure if his terrified kit was even old enough to understand, but at least it went limp again so it was easier to carry. He had to lift his head high to keep the tiny creature clear of the water as he floundered toward the tree. He reached it without needing to swim and sprang upward, clawing for a grip on the soft, rotting wood. Once he had pulled himself up, his main concern was keeping a pawhold on the smooth, slippery trunk. 

Gingerly placing each of his paws in a straight line, Fireheart padded toward the opposite bank with the river churning beneath him, sucking at the tree as if it wanted to sweep it, and its burden of cats, away downstream. Fireheart glanced back to see Brackenheart following with the gray kit, his face creased with determination. At the far end the trunk divided into a tangle of broken branches. Fireheart ducked down to squeeze through them, being careful not to let the kit’s fur catch on jagged edges. It was harder to find a pawhold as the branches tapered, and he ran out of anything that might bear his weight when there was still a gap of a couple of fox-lengths separating him from the far side of the river. Fireheart took a deep breath, flexed his hind legs, and leaped. His front paws hit the bank while his hind paws kicked madly in the rushing current. As water splashed up, the kit started to struggle again. Fireheart kept his teeth clenched in its neck fur as he sank his front claws into the soft earth and scrabbled upward until he stood safely on the bank. He lurched forward a few paces and set the kit down gently. Glancing around, Fireheart saw Brackenheart pulling himself out of the water a little way downstream. He lowered the gray kit to the ground and shook himself. 

“The river doesn’t taste right,” he mewled. 

“Look on the bright side,” Fireheart suggested. “At least it should disguise our scents.” He broke off as three cats crashed out of the bushes just beyond them.  ****

* * *

Fireheart braced himself as he recognized Leopardfur, the RiverClan deputy, and the warriors Blackclaw and Stonefur. Forcing his tired legs to move, he picked up the black kit and padded along the bank to stand beside Brackenheart. The golden brown warrior hauled himself to his paws, and the two cats set down their burdens and faced their enemies together. He knew they were too exhausted to stand up to a patrol of strong, fresh warriors, and his head spun as he tried to summon enough energy for a fight into his frozen paws. But to his relief, the RiverClan cats halted a few tail-lengths away. “What’s this?” growled Leopardfur. Her golden-spotted fur bristled, and her ears were flattened against her head. Beside her, Blackclaw stood with his lips drawn back in a snarl. 

“Why are you trespassing on our territory?” he demanded. 

“Blackclaw, thank StarClan, we found these kits being washed away by the current-.” 

Fireheart staggered sideways to avoid soaking the kit even more, and he ended up collapsing as he hacked up river water. 

“What?! What were kits doing by the river?!” Leopardfur demanded. “We’ve already given one outsider a chance. We don’t need anymore mouths to feed.” 

“These are my sister’s kits.” Stonefur growled, having padded forward to make sure Fireheart didn’t get sucked into the current once more. “They are hardly outsiders.”    
“And even if they were, Leopardfur, the Code condemns the harm of kits.” Blackclaw growled. 

Perhaps it was because he and Greenflower would be having kits of their own, or perhaps something else had occurred. Leopardfur wasn’t the most popular cat from what Fireheart could see. 

_ Maybe that’s what she saw in Tigerclaw the first time… acceptance.  _

Fireheart shook his head to clear it and sagged against Stonefur. Brackenheart struggled to stay upright against Blackclaw, and neither of them wanted to go very far until these kits were reunited with their parents. 

“You’re coming with us.” Leopardfur insisted. “Crookedstar will want to make sure you’re telling the truth, and if you are, then the Clan will want to meet you.

“All right,” Fireheart meowed. “I just hope your Clan leader can see the truth when it’s in front of his nose.” 

Leopardfur led the way along the bank, while Blackclaw picked up one kit and loped tiredly alongside Fireheart and Brackenheart. Stonefur brought up the rear, carrying the other kit. When they reached the island where the RiverClan cats had their camp, Fireheart saw that a wide channel of racing water separated it from the ridge of dry ground, wrenching at the overhanging boughs of the willow trees. No cats were visible through the reeds, and Fireheart could see silver water lapping among the bushes that concealed the camp. 

Leopardfur paused, her eyes widening with alarm. 

“The water has risen since we left camp,” she yelped. As she spoke, a yowl came from behind them at the top of the slope, where Fireheart and Graystripe had hidden to talk to Silverstream some time ago. 

“Leopardfur! Up here!” Fireheart turned to see the RiverClan leader, Crookedstar, emerging from the shelter of the bushes. His pale tabby coat was soaked, fur sticking out in all directions, and his twisted jaw made him look as if he were mocking the patrol and their prisoners. 

“What happened?” Leopardfur demanded as she reached her leader. 

“The camp is flooded,” Crookedstar replied. His voice was flat with defeat. “We had to move.” 

As he spoke, two or three other cats emerged cautiously from the bushes. Fireheart brightened when he saw one of them was Silverstream. 

“This habit of finding shiny things has got to stop.” Crookedstar sighed, eyes narrowed at the two ThunderClan toms.

“They saved Mistyfoot’s kits.” Stonefur mumbled around the black kit’s scruff. 

At the mention of kits, Silverstream turned and disappeared under the bushes again. Crookedstar padded forward and sniffed the mewling bundles. 

By now they, had begun to recover from their ordeal and were trying to sit up, though they still looked completely waterlogged. 

“Mistyfoot’s kits went missing when the camp flooded,” Crookedstar remarked, turning his cold green gaze on Fireheart and Brackenheart. “How do you come to have them?” 

Fireheart exchanged an exasperated glance with his former apprentice, exhaustion making him short-tempered. 

“We flew across the river,” he scowled. 

A loud yowling revealed that Mistyfoot came racing over to them. 

“Where are my kits?!” She demanded, eyes wild.   


She locked eyes with her brother, who hovered protectively by them, before crouching over the tiny scraps of fur and licking them furiously, trying to comfort both of them at once. Stonefur pressed up close against her and mewed comfortingly into her ear. Silverstream followed more slowly and stood beside her father, nodding to Fireheart. More cats emerged after her and gathered curiously around. Fireheart recognized only Mudfur, the RiverClan medicine cat, who crouched beside Mistyfoot to examine the kits. All of the RiverClan cats were wet through, and the fur clinging to their bodies showed they were skinnier than ever. Fireheart had always thought of RiverClan cats as plump and sleek, well-fed on fish from the river. That was until Silverstream told him that Twolegs had stayed by the river during greenleaf and stolen or scared away most of their prey. The Twolegs had left the forest now, during leaf-bare, but RiverClan had been unable to hunt when the river froze. And instead of bringing much-needed food, the thaw had driven them out of their camp completely.

In spite of his pang of pity, Fireheart could also see the unfriendliness in their eyes, the hostility in their flattened ears and twitching tail tips. Fireheart knew he and Brackenheart would have to work hard to convince Crookedstar that they had really saved the kits. 

Suddenly, the large light brown tabby turned to glare at a face that Fireheart had thought he’d never see again. 

“Well, Outsider,” He sneered. “These cats were once yours. Do you believe their tale?” 

The crowd of cats gave a wide berth to the stranger, whose long, thick fur was as sopping wet as the rest of them… and just as good at keeping it out. 

Brackenheart narrowed his eyes upon sight of his former mentor. 

“If RiverClan is in the habit of taking in cats whose pride outweighs their Clan service, then by all means, keep him.” The golden brown tom scoffed. “Glad to see you well, Greystripe. I hope you’ve found your place.” 

Fireheart couldn’t find it in himself to say anything. All he could remember was that Greystripe had reeked of the Thunderpath when there was none, and Brackenpaw had almost paid for his mentor’s mistakes. 

“I know them both rather well. If Fireheart says he was trying to help, then he was.” Greystripe meowed solemnly. 

“In which case, we’re grateful to you,” meowed Crookedstar begrudgingly. 

“Yes, of course!” exclaimed Mistyfoot. She looked up again, her eyes glowing softly with gratitude. “Without you, my kits would have died.” 

Fireheart dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“If you can’t go back to your camp, prey’s scarce because of the flood-?” 

“We need no help from ThunderClan,” growled Crookedstar. “RiverClan cats can look after themselves.” 

“Don’t be such a fool.” It was Graypool, mother to Mistyfoot and Stonefur, who snapped and glared at her leader. Fireheart felt a new surge of respect for her; he guessed that not many cats would dare to take that tone with Crookedstar. 

“You’re too proud for your own good,” the elder rasped. “How can we feed ourselves, even with the thaw? The river’s practically poisoned and you know it!” 

“What?” Brackenheart exclaimed; Fireheart was too shocked to say anything. 

“Twolegs,” Graypool explained to them. “Last newleaf, the river was clean and full of fish. Now it’s filthy with Twoleg rubbish from their camp.” 

“And the fish are poisoned,” Mudfur added. “Cats who eat them fall ill. I’ve treated more cats for bellyache this leaf-bare than in all the time since I’ve been the medicine cat.” 

Fireheart stared at Graystripe, and then at the rest of the hungry RiverClan cats. Most of them couldn’t meet his eyes, as if they were ashamed that a cat of another Clan should know about their troubles. 

“Maybe you could catch prey outside the territories?” Brackenheart wondered. “Send patrols out at night so that there can be food in the daytime.”

“We would, if we had any idea how to go after it.”

“Surely fish can’t be all you have?” 

“Small water creatures, voles, and the occasional shrew. But it’ll take far more than that to be sustain us for the time being, especially when our main source  _ is _ the fish.” Silverstream reasoned. 

Fireheart mulled this over. Silverstream was right, and there was no way around a starving Clan.

“We can teach you how to hunt?” He wondered aloud. “Take you a bit outside the territories, so no cat can trespass. Fill up your stocks with land prey until the river clears out.” 

“And you’re sure we’ll catch enough prey and have enough water to keep everyone well-fed?” Leopardfur wondered, eyes hungry. 

“We’ll ensure it.” Greystripe spoke for the first time, padding over to stand beside Fireheart and Brackenheart. 

“If any cat knows how to catch land animals, they should start teaching others who might not know as much. Fireheart and Brackenpaw can-.”   
“Bracken _ heart _ . The golden-brown tom sneered. 

“Whatever.” Greystripe scoffed. “These two can scout out good places to hunt outside the territories. Fireheart and Silverstream should remember a few places from their journey.”

“If this can truly be done… if we can take shelter in other territory until the floods pass… you must find us these places.” 

Fireheart, Brackenheart, Greystripe and Silverstream all nodded in unison. 

“We’ll find food, Father.” Silverstream insisted.

Crookedstar nodded and nuzzled his daughter. 

“I hope we do, my dear.” He murmured, casting his troubled gaze at her growing belly. “Truly, I hope we do.” 

Fireheart knew then that he couldn’t afford to have this plan fail. 


	10. Nine

“Remember when you said that there absolutely had to be four Clans in the forest, no exceptions?”

Bluestar snorted at her former apprentice, eyes light. The prey was returning, slowly but surely, and nothing could spoil her mood. Sandstorm and Dustpelt had found out about RiverClan half a moon into Fireheart’s expedition, and they started taking the youngest warriors as a set of extra paws. This went on for a moon, everyone doing their part to make sure things ran smoothly. The group went in shifts, two or three cats per night, and they kept RiverClan on a surprisingly ShadowClan-like schedule of nocturnal hunting. They taught hunting crouches and set the water-trained warriors to chase their prey into their Clanmates’ waiting paws. All in all, the mission was a success. And by the time Bluestar found out, the RiverClan warriors were back in their own camp and no longer worrying about the floods.   
They would still have to hunt outside the territory, but they could sustain themselves now. 

“And this was your solution to such a problem?”    
“We couldn’t let them starve!” Brackenheart insisted.

“And we hunted outside the territory.”    
“We even managed to catch enough extra to make up our own fresh-kill pile.” Dustpelt added reasonably. 

“You lied.” Tigerclaw growled.   
“We kept secrets.” Sandstorm scoffed. Don’t act like you’ve never done that before, Tigerclaw.” Fireheart’s mate sneered. 

“We weren’t trying to deceive anyone, and we made sure that the prey we caught never set paw on ThunderClan territory.” Brightstorm offered. 

“There are far too many of you to reasonably punish.” Bluestar grumbled. “Clever ruse, all of you. You’re dismissed.”    
“Bluestar-.” Tigerclaw objected.   
“If you want the headache of figuring out patrols and finding things for them all to do, then go ahead. I’ll have nothing of it.”    
And that was that. Fireheart recalled easily when he and Greystripe had actually used their own Clan’s prey to sustain RiverClan. They’d been forced to act as apprentices, with Longtail, of all cats, as their “mentor.”

Fireheart shook himself out.

_ This is a new life, remember? _

He’d never be Firepaw again. He’d probably never see Greystripe or Ravenpaw again. He was closer to Dustpelt and Brackenheart than ever before, and Tigerclaw’s eminent betrayal wouldn’t be Bluestar’s downfall. 

Things would be different. He was seeing to it. 

  
  


The river might be going down, but it was nowhere near what ThunderClan was comfortable with. Just because RiverClan had their camp back didn’t mean that everything was okay. The Gathering was tonight, so Bluestar sent out patrols every at sunrise and halfway to sunhigh to check the water levels at the river. The grey queen called the ginger tom over to where she sat with her dark brown tabby deputy. 

“Tigerclaw is going to lead a patrol up to Fourtrees,” Bluestar went on before Fireheart could respond. “The moon is full, and we need to know if we can make it to the Gathering. Tigerclaw, will you take Fireheart with you?” 

Fireheart couldn’t interpret the gleam in the deputy’s amber eyes. He didn’t look pleased, he rarely did, ever since Greystripe had challenged him, but there was a certain dark satisfaction, as if he would enjoy putting Fireheart through his paces.

“He can come,” Tigerclaw meowed. “But if he puts a paw wrong, I’ll want to know the reason why.” His dark coat rippled as he heaved himself to his paws. “I’ll find another cat to go with us.” 

Fireheart watched him as he strode across the clearing and disappeared into the warriors’ den. 

“This will be an important Gathering,” murmured Bluestar beside him. “We need to find out how the other Clans are coping with the floods. It’s important for our Clan to be there.” 

“We’ll find a way, Bluestar,” Fireheart assured her. 

His confidence drained rapidly away a moment later when he saw Tigerclaw reappear from the den. The cat who followed him out was Longtail. It looked as if Tigerclaw had chosen the third member of the patrol deliberately to disadvantage Fireheart. 

Fireheart felt a hard lump of apprehension in his stomach. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to go out alone with Tigerclaw and Longtail. For a moment, fearful pictures of the two cats turning on him in the depths of the forest and murdering him whirled through Fireheart’s mind. Then he shook himself. He was scaring himself like a kit listening to some elder’s tale. 

No doubt Tigerclaw would make unreasonable demands of him, and Longtail would enjoy every moment, but Fireheart wasn’t afraid of being challenged. He’d been through far worse than anything  _ Longtail _ could throw at him.

* * *

Saying a respectful good-bye to Bluestar, he raced across the clearing and followed the other two out of the camp. The sun rose higher as the cats journeyed through the forest toward Fourtrees. The ferns were weighted with glittering drops of dew that clung to Fireheart’s fur as he brushed past. Birds sang, and branches rustled with freshly opened leaves. Newleaf had really come at last. As he padded after Tigerclaw, Fireheart was distracted by tempting movements in the undergrowth as prey scurried to and fro. After a while the deputy let them stop and hunt for themselves. 

_ He’s in a surprisingly good mood, all things considered. _ Fireheart thought. Perhaps he’s anticipating the birth of his kits? 

He was relaxed enough to acknowledge the flame-pelted warrior as he pounced on a particularly speedy vole. Longtail kept his unfriendly comments to himself. As they trekked on, Fireheart’s stomach was warm and full, from the vole and Tigerclaw’s praise.

On a day like this he couldn’t help feeling optimistic, sure that they’d have good news to take back to Bluestar. 

Then they reached the top of a slope and looked down toward the stream that crossed ThunderClan territory, separating them from Fourtrees. Tigerclaw let out a long, soft hiss, and Longtail yowled in dismay. Fireheart shared their exasperation. Usually the stream was shallow enough for cats to cross easily, keeping their paws dry by leaping from rock to rock. Now the water had spread into a glistening sheet on either side, while the current churned swiftly along the original course of the stream. 

“Fancy crossing that?” spat Longtail. 

Without a word, Tigerclaw began padding upstream, following the edge of the floodwater toward the Thunderpath. The land sloped gently upward, and before long, Fireheart could see that the shining surface was broken by tussocks of grass and clumps of bracken poking above the water. 

“This isn’t as deep as when Whitestorm last reported,” Tigerclaw noticed. “We’ll try to cross here.” 

Fireheart wasn’t sure the water would be shallow enough, but he kept that to himself, and quietly followed Tigerclaw into the flood. He couldn’t help noticing that Longtail’s ears twitched nervously as he splashed in beside them. The water bit with cold as it lapped at Fireheart’s legs. He picked his way carefully, tracing a zigzag course toward the nearest bank of the stream by springing from one clump of grass to the next. Drops of water glittered in the sunlight as he splashed forward. 

A frog wriggled out from under his paws, almost making him lose his balance, but he righted himself by sinking his claws heavily into a waterlogged tussock. In front of him, the current was brown where it had stirred up mud from the streambed. It was much too wide for a cat to leap, and the stepping-stones were completely submerged. 

_ I hope Tigerclaw doesn’t expect us to swim, _ Fireheart thought with a wince. Even as the words went through his mind, he heard Tigerclaw’s yowl from farther upstream. 

“Come here! Look at this!” Fireheart splashed toward him. The deputy, with Longtail beside him, was standing at the edge of the stream. A branch was lodged in front of them, swept into place by the current so that it stretched from one bank to the other. 

“Just what we need,” Tigerclaw grunted in satisfaction. “Fireheart, check that it’s safe, will you?” Fireheart gazed doubtfully at the branch. It was much thinner than the fallen tree that he had used to cross to RiverClan’s territory. Twigs poked out in all directions, still with dead leaves dangling from them. Every few moments the whole branch gave a slight jerk, as if the current wanted to sweep it away again. With any other senior warrior, or even Bluestar, Fireheart would have discussed how safe the branch was before he set paw on it. But no cat questioned an order from Tigerclaw. 

“Scared, kittypet?” Longtail taunted. 

“He’s been a member of ThunderClan for exactly six moons less than you have, you blubbering idiot!” Tigerclaw snapped. “I have no patience for the words of a cat who knows not what they speak.” The deputy growled.

Fireheart blinked, surprised, but rolled his eyes and focused on the log. Gritting his teeth, he stepped onto the end of the branch. Immediately it sagged under his paws, and he dug his claws in, fighting for balance. He could see brown water racing a mouse-length below, and for a few heartbeats he thought he would plunge straight into it. Then he steadied himself. He began to crawl forward cautiously, placing his paws in a straight line one after the other. The slender branch bounced under his weight with every step. Twigs caught in his fur, threatening his balance.

“We’ll never get to the Gathering like this!” Fireheart called back. Gradually he drew closer to the middle of the stream, where the current was strongest. The branch thinned until it was barely as thick as his tail, making it harder to find a pawhold. Pausing, Fireheart measured the distance left; was he close enough to leap safely yet? Then the branch lurched under him. Instinctively he gripped tighter with his claws. 

“Fireheart! Get back!” He heard Longtail yowl. For a heartbeat Fireheart swayed precariously. The branch lurched again and suddenly it was free, racing along with the surging water. Fireheart slipped sideways, and thought he heard Tigerclaw yowl once more as the waves closed over his head.

Not again! Fireheart wanted to wail as he plunged into the stream. Good thing he managed to keep one clawhold on the branch. He felt as though he were fighting a spiky wooden enemy, twigs that lashed at him and raked through his fur while his breath bubbled into the dark water. 

His head broke the surface briefly, but before he could gasp in air the branch twisted and rolled him under again. Terror made him strangely calm, as if time had slowed down. Part of felt like letting go and fighting his way to the surface, but he knew that if he did that he would lead to certain death. The current was far too strong to swim. 

_ StarClan help me!  _ he howled internally. 

His senses were just beginning to ebb into a tempting darkness when the branch rolled over again and brought him back to the surface. Choking and spitting he clung to it, with water churning along on either side of him. That was when Fireheart realized that he couldn’t see the bank. He tried to haul himself farther out of the water, but his sodden fur was too heavy and his limbs grew stiff with cold. 

Just as he was about to let go, something brought the branch to a jarring stop. It shuddered along its whole length, almost throwing Fireheart off. As he clung on desperately, he heard a cat screech his name. Twisting his head, he saw that the other end of the branch was jammed against a rock that jutted out into the stream. Longtail was crouched on the rock, leaning down toward him. 

“Move!” The tan tabby tom growled. 

With his last drop of energy, Fireheart scrambled along the length of the branch. Twigs whipped across his face. He felt the branch lurch again and flung himself at the rock, his front paws scraping at it while his hind legs thrust through the water. His paws had barely touched stone when the branch was swept away from underneath him. For a heartbeat Fireheart thought he would follow it. The rock was smooth so there was no purchase for his paws. 

Then Longtail reached down and Fireheart felt his teeth meet in the scruff of his neck. With the other cat’s help he managed to claw his way upward until he was crouching on the top of the rock. Shivering, he coughed up several mouthfuls of stream water before he looked up. 

“Thanks, Longtail,” he gasped. The warrior’s face was expressionless. 

“It was nothing.” 

The deputy raced over from behind the rock. 

“Are you hurt?” Tigerclaw demanded. “Can you walk?” Shakily, Fireheart pushed himself to his paws. Water streamed off his coat as he shook himself out. 

“Fine.” The ginger tom stammered. He gave a rapid sniff down the length of his body. 

“Back to camp for you,” The deputy ordered. “In fact, we’ll all go back. No cat can get across that water; you’ve proved that, if nothing else.” Fireheart nodded and wordlessly followed the deputy back into the forest. Colder and more tired than he could ever remember being before, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep in a patch of sunlight.


	11. Ten

By the time he reached the camp, the warm newleaf sun had dried Fireheart’s fur, but he was so exhausted he could scarcely put one paw in front of another. Sandstorm, who was sunning herself outside the warriors’ den, sprang up as soon as she saw him and bounded over to his side. 

“Fireheart!” she exclaimed. “You look awful! What happened?” 

“Your mate went for a swim, that’s all,” Tigerclaw interrupted sarcastically, glaring down at the ginger tom. 

“Come on. We need to report to Bluestar and you need herbs.” He strode across to the Highrock with Longtail at his heels. As Fireheart staggered after them, Sandstorm padded close beside him, pressing her warm body against his for support. 

“Well?” Bluestar asked when they reached her. “I take it you found nowhere to cross?”

“It’s impossible. Fireheart almost died trying to prove that.”

“Tell me exactly where you went. Perhaps there’s an alternative route?” 

Tigerclaw began to describe the events of the morning in more detail, including Fireheart’s attempt to cross by the branch. 

“It was brave but foolish,” he growled.

Sandstorm glared at Fireheart, exasperated but impressed. 

“Be more careful in the future, Fireheart,” Bluestar warned. “You’d better see Yellowfang in case you’ve caught a chill.” 

Fireheart nodded and let Sandstorm guide him to the medicine den. Maybe Nutleaf would be willing to tell him how she’s fitting in. 

“Great StarClan, you look like a squirrel that’s fallen out of its tree! What happened to you?” demanded upon sight of him. Nutleaf loped out behind her and sat beside Fireheart, eyes wide as she heard how he had nearly drowned.

“Right,” rasped Yellowfang. “You’re a strong cat, and you probably haven’t taken a chill, but we’ll check you to make sure. Nutleaf, what should we look for when a cat gets a soaking?” 

Nutleaf sat up straight with her tail wrapped around her paws. Eyes fixed on Yellowfang, she recited, 

“Poor breathing, sickness, leeches in his fur.” 

“Good,” grunted Yellowfang. “Off you go, then.” 

Very carefully, Nutleaf sniffed along her brother’s stocky frame, parting his fur with one paw to make sure that no leeches had fastened themselves onto his skin. 

“Breathing okay, Fireheart?” she asked gently. “Do you feel sick?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Fireheart meowed comfortingly. “I just want to sleep for a moon.” 

“I think he’s all right, Yellowfang,” Nutleaf reported. She pressed her cheek against Fireheart’s and gave him a couple of quick licks. “Just don’t go jumping in any more rivers, eh?” 

Yellowfang let out a throaty purr. 

“All right, Fireheart, you can go and sleep now.” 

Nutleaf flicked up her ears in surprise. 

“Aren’t you going to check him as well? What if I’ve missed something?” 

“No need,” meowed Yellowfang. “I trust you’re far enough along to need none of that anymore.” The old cat stretched, arching her skinny back, and then relaxed. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you for a while,” she went on. “I see so many mouse-brained cats around here that it’s a real joy to find one with some sense. You’ve learned quickly, and you’re good with sick cats.” 

“Thank you, Yellowfang!” Nutleaf burst out, her eyes round with surprise at Yellowfang’s praise.

“Be quiet, I haven’t finished. I’m getting old now, and it’s time you started taking on more of my duties. I know you’ve been to Mothermouth a few times by now, but I think you have a very good chance of gaining your medicine cat name.” 

“Do you think StarClan will let me keep this one?” Fireheart’s sister chirped. “I kind of like it.”    
“I don’t see why not. Keep up the good work and you’ll be recognized as a full medicine cat.” 

Fireheart purred and twined himself around his sister. 

“I’m glad you’re settling in so well.” He murmured. “I’m off to sleep now.” 

“You should be.” Nutleaf snorted. 

The ginger warrior pranced away, heart lighter than it felt in moons. He had family here, something he’d had to create before. Now, he mused as he touched noses with Sandstorm and chewed bits of mouse in his nest, now claiming ThunderClan as his home was almost as easy as breathing.

  
  
  


Something was nudging him awake and he needed it to stop. 

“I need three more sunrises before I can get up, much less go anywhere.” Fireheart yawned. 

“Too bad for you, Bluestar’s called a meeting. It’s time to go to the Gathering.” That was Cinderpelt, his sleepy mind noted. 

“Have fun, then.” He mumbled, burrowing deeper into his nest.

His apprentice left him alone, and he thanked StarClan for small mercies. Maybe now he could get some real sleep. 

  
  
  


When his eyes snapped open, it was further along in newleaf than he’d last seen the forest. 

“Spottedleaf? Redtail?” He called out as he padded along the forest floor. 

It was neither of those, but Graypool who materialized to walk beside him. 

“Hello, young one.” She purred. “Thank you for saving my grandkits. Mistyfoot wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she’d lost them for good.”    
“We did what we had to.” Fireheart meowed solemnly. 

“And for that I’m glad. Your grey friend caused quite a stir when he showed up in RiverClan. But Silverstream claimed he was the father of her kits. Oh, you can imagine how that went.” 

He actually didn’t want to, because  _ how _ could they be so  _ stupid _ ?!

Graypool must have seen the look on his face, because she draped her tail over his shoulder.

“Oh, they’ll be fine. RiverClan had enough to worry about that Greystripe was the last thing on their minds. They’ll deal with him after the floods and by that time, he’ll have fit himself right in.”

Fireheart hoped so… 

“The Clans have bigger problems than Greystripe. He’s happy where he is, for now. You’ve got trouble on the horizon.”    
“What kind of trouble?”   
“Oh, I have no idea. Not every StarClan cat gets all the info, y’know. Half the time, we’re just as in the dark as you are.”    
“But that doesn’t make any sense! How do you get your knowledge?”

“We see through the struggles of the living. Seeing the lack of prey in, say, ShadowClan, helps us determine possible fates for the rest. And of course, there’s the Ancient Ones, but I don’t know much about them.”

“Why tell me all this?”

“It’s nice to chat with other cats sometime. InterClan cooperation can be all there is.” 

Fireheart nodded along, remembering how the Clans united the fight BloodClan and for the Great Journey, how they fought the Dark Forest… that last battle, in particular, had been brutal. 

“Oh, here we are. Redtail can take over from here. It was nice talking to you, Fireheart!” Graypool chirped before padding off. 

Fireheart turned to find that the tortoiseshell deputy was indeed before him, and practically flew to the other tom’s side. 

“Oh thank goodness, I thought I’d never see you again!” The ginger tom wailed. 

“Why?” Redtail purred, amusement tinging his voice. “All you have to do is get some decent sleep and StarClan does the rest. Any cat can tell you that.”    
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve seen, but I’ve been rather busy.”    
“And you’re about to get even busier. I notice you stopped telling your stories at night. Any particular reason?” 

“Because it was all too complicated. I couldn’t tell where Greystripe was going until I knew that Silverstream would be okay, and it seemed like everything from there on out depended on their relationship. But Greystripe’s in RiverClan now, so Silverstream should be okay.” Fireheart sighed. 

Redtail looked skeptical. 

“What?” The younger warrior growled, bristling. “You know something, tell me what it is!” He snapped. 

“Not all StarClan cats are able to see the future, little flame. I just think you should remember that not everything will change just because some things are different.”

Panic set in, and Fireheart let his claws dig into the ground. 

“Does that mean Silverstream still dies?!” He hissed. “That’s not right! She’s got no reason to-.”   
“There often is no reason, little flame. Not every stone in the river alters its course.”    
“But that’s not fair!”    
“Neither is life, Fireheart, and you know that well by now. Just… keep an eye out. I know not your friend’s fate, but you’re doing just fine as you are. And… do try not to run yourself into the ground. We can’t afford to give you nine lives just yet.” 

Hinting that he’d be getting nine lives again… 

Fireheart shook his head. 

“I’m not becoming deputy.” He insisted. 

“It’s not your choice.” Redtail offered. 

“Well, Bluestar knows what’s going on with Tigerclaw, so she shouldn’t break down this time.”    
“Tigerclaw’s betrayal is a cause, but it’s not the only one. Keep an eye around camp for a while, you’ll start to see what I mean.” 

Fireheart nodded, and Redtail touched his nose to the ginger warrior’s. 

“Good luck, little flame. Water can quench fire, but flames often find their own path.” 

With those last words, everything went black. 


	12. Eleven

“Silverstream?” 

Nutleaf, Fireheart and Yellowfang were out on a mid-morning herb gathering patrol when Fireheart caught a familiar scent and trailed it all the way to Sunningrocks. The pair of medicine cats followed, confused. Their confusion quickly turned to alarm when they spotted the birthing queen splayed out on the recently warmed rocks. 

_ This can’t be happening! It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon! _

“Greystripe? Is that you, love?” 

“Greystripe isn't here, Silverstream.” Her friend croaked out. “It's Fireheart.” 

“Fireheart! Oh thank StarClan, please help me. I think the kits are early.” 

“They are, Silverstream, I need you to focus on breathing. Can you do that for me? Take deep breaths.” 

Silverstream nodded feebly and struggled to control her panting as Yellowfang prodded up and down her flank. 

“Two kits, but something's wrong…” The older grey medicine cat mused. 

Silverstream spasmed under her and Yellowfang worked her paws across the queen's stomach. 

“I need you to push when I tell you to, Silverstream, are you ready?” Yellowfang murmured. 

“Hurts.” The RiverClan queen panted. 

“I know, but it'll be okay soon. You'll get to see Greystripe and take the kits back to your family. You just have to do as Yellowfang says, okay?” 

Fireheart was pacing nervously around the queen and struggled to keep his voice calm. Silverstream panted agreeingly and started to push. 

* * *

Fireheart doesn't remember everything that happens. He knows that the kits come out strangely, that Stormkit almost didn't make it. That Silverstream  _ didn't _ make it. 

“You can't go now! What about your father and Greenflower? What do I tell Greystripe?” 

“Tell them all that I love them.” She murmured. “Thank you so much, Fireheart. My kits and I owe you our lives.” 

“I don't want you to say that, I want you to stay awake! Stars damn you, Silverstream,  _ wake up _ ! I don't know how to raise kits, I can barely manage apprentices! You have to wake up, your kits need you! Greystripe needs you, your Clan needs you…” Fireheart trailed off and stared at the dead queen. 

“She's not waking up.” He whispered. 

“She walks with the Stars now, Fireheart.” Yellowfang murmured. Redtail's voice drifted to his ears.

_ There are some things you cannot change, little flame. _

**This was supposed to be one of them!**

“I need to bury her.” He mumbled. “Tell Greystripe, tell RiverClan… who will believe me? They won't think we tried to save her.” 

“Medicine cats do not harm no matter the Clan.” Yellowfang insisted. “You put aside the rivalry between Clans to save a life. And we saved two of them.” 

“Who's going to believe that?!” He sneered. 

“Anyone with common sense. Now, Silverstream must be buried and the kits need warmth and milk. Nutleaf, I know you're no longer a queen but-.” 

The brown and white tabby nodded and laid back, allowing the kits to burrow in her fur and they squeaked for warmth. 

Yellowfang turned to where Silverstream lay. She and Fireheart buried the queen at the edge of the river, where the soil was best. 

“I'll keep an eye out for your kits, Silverstream, and I know you'll do the same. They'll be alright.” Fireheart muttered bitterly. “They'll be alright.” 

He turned to Yellowfang. 

“What now?” He asked. 

“The kits need names and milk. We have to carry them back.” Yellowfang murmured gently.

“Stormkit and Featherkit.” He growled.

* * *

The trio surprised the Clan when they got back to camp. 

“What happened to you?!” Sandstorm demanded, racing up to them. 

“Are those  _ kits _ ?!” Someone (Mousefur, he'd know later) yowled in shock. “Goldenflower, Speckletail, somebody! The medicine patrol has newborn kits with them!” She pelted to the nursery, the medicine cats on her heels. 

Bramblekit and Tawnykit are here… their other two siblings died. Perfect fit… Fireheart let himself slump to the ground. 

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this.” He murmured as Sandstorm curled around him. 

“I’m so sorry, Fireheart. I know she was your friend.” 

“I just… I thought she’d have more time. In the dreams, ShadowClan and WindClan attacked us because they were angry and then it happened a few days after that! This was… this was too soon!” He whimpered. 

“Not even StarClan themselves can change everything.” His mate’s breath warmed his ears. 

“Redtail said something similar.” He grumbled. “It’s still not fair.” 

“I know.” She murmured. 

They sat in the center of camp for a few heartbeats before the medicine cats emerged from the den and reported that the kits would be fine. 

Fireheart reluctantly unwound himself from his mate and found himself just staring at her. 

“You should lay down.” She murmured. “You've had a lot happen just now.”

Fireheart shook his head. 

“I would love nothing more, believe me… but I need to tell her Clanmates what happened.” 

“The medicine cats can do that-.” 

“It might not be enough. Nutleaf is traumatized as it is and what reason would she have to be near Sunningrocks? I have to go with them.” Fireheart insisted. “Please come with me.” He added desperately. 

“Of course,” Sandstorm murmured. “I'm with you no matter what.” She reminded him. He exhaled roughly and nodded his thanks. 

“Nutleaf!” Sandstorm called. “Are you coming with us?” 

The light brown and white she-cat nodded soberly. 

“I must see this through.” She insisted. 

Sandstorm snorted. They were definitely siblings. She wondered which parent fostered their determination. 

* * *

Dustpelt joined them on the solemn trek back to Sunningrocks, and Fireheart nearly stopped right then and there. 

“I can't do this.” He whimpered. “They won't believe me, they'll think I killed her and they'll hate me for it.” 

“Clan cats can't hurt medicine cats, right?” Nutleaf recalled. Sandstorm nodded. 

“It's against the rules.” She informed her mate's sister. 

“Then we'll be just fine.” 

So they crossed the river, one at a time. 

The problem came when they realized that nobody knew where RiverClan's camp was. So they stumbled around through sharp reeds and wet ground. Thankfully, it didn't take them long to find a patrol. 

“What are you do-. StarClan above, are you alright?!” The speaker was a tom the color of the pebbles by the river. 

“Stonefur…” Fireheart mumbled. 

“We need to talk to Crookedstar, please.” Nutleaf took up for him. “It's very important that we do.” 

“What do you want with Crookedstar?” Some other cat demanded sharply. 

“Back up, Mosspaw, something is ailing these cats. At the very least, we can get them to Mudfur. If they really need to talk to Crookedstar then it must be important.” 

“Mudfur is RiverClan’s medicine cat!” Nutleaf recalled.

“Yes, what of it?” Stonefur asked. 

“Oh thank StarClan!” She whispered, relieved. “I need to know I did the right thing.” 

“Are you a medicine cat?” The strange apprentice demanded. 

“Yes, I work with Yellowfang. She's been teaching me quite a bit but today… today was the worst day I've had as a healer. It'd be nice to talk to someone about it.”

“Alright, then it's settled. Follow us and we'll show you to Crookedstar and Mudfur.” 

* * *

“What is the meaning of this, Stonefur?!” Leopardfur snapped from somewhere far off. 

“These cats say they need to talk to Crookedstar and the brown and white she-cat would like to consult with Mudfur.” 

“We must speak with Crookedstar. Tell him it's about Silverstream.” 

“What? What about Silverstream? Where is she?” A familiar voice blurted out, shouldering his way through the growing crowd. 

“Greystripe?!” Sandstorm gasped. 

“Of course you would end up here.” Dustpelt scoffed. 

“Tell me where my mate is!” The large grey tom snapped. 

“She… she gave birth earlier today at Sunningrocks. I was gathering herbs and I followed her scent. Something went wrong though… Stars, she was supposed to live.” 

Fireheart buried his face in Sandstorm's flank. 

“No… that can't be true, I saw her this morning! She just wanted to walk a bit-! You're lying!” Greystripe determined. “Tell me where Silverstream is!” 

“Fireheart has no reason to lie, Greystripe.” 

Greenflower waddled over to stand before the former ThunderClan tom, who towered over her. “He's a friend of ours. If what he says is true…” 

“It has to be. Medicine cats don't lie either, and this one said she had her worst day as a healer. She had to have been there when Silverstream gave birth.” Stonefur realized. 

“Nutleaf?” A strange voice called out. A dark brown tom who strongly resembled Halftail emerged from one of the dens and all but sprinted over to them. 

“Back away, all of you! She gets nervous far too easily and if she made the trek here then she must need something. Come with me, we'll get this sorted out.” 

Fireheart breathed a sigh of relief as the dark brown tom draped his tail over Nutleaf's shoulders and led her away.

“Silverstream…” Greystripe plopped back on his haunches as the news hit him full-on. “Where are the kits?” He demanded. 

“The medicine patrol brought them back to ThunderClan.” Sandstorm explained. “They could barely handle that, so please give it some time before you come stomping into our camp.” 

“No, of course.” Greenflower murmured. 

Greystripe glared at the brown and white queen. 

“You would let ThunderClan keep kits they have no claim to?!” He snapped. 

“Because they are kits.” Dustpelt insisted. “They are small and weak and not able to travel. The medicine cats were hard-pressed to get them to our own nursery. Did you expect them to go stumbling around in unknown territory just so you could see your kits?” The brown tabby sneered. 

“ThunderClan has no claim to RiverClan kits!” Greystripe scowled. 

“And we'll give them back as soon as they're able to walk.” Fireheart snorted. “Right now, taking them from the nursery would ensure their death, and you don't want that.” 

Greystripe nodded and sagged to the ground. 

“Silverstream…” He whispered. 

“For what it's worth, she wanted you there.” Fireheart grumbled. “Said that she loves you. You'll see her in StarClan, I'm sure.” He groused. 

“You don't sound too happy about that.” Greystripe sneered. 

Fireheart made to speak, but thought better of it. Provoking Greystripe usually got them all in trouble. 

“If you've got something to say-.” 

“I've said what I came to. There's nothing more worth saying to you.” 

Fireheart was weary and angry and all he wanted to do was curl up in his nest and have Sandstorm smother him with her thick still-winter coat. But RiverClan deserved to know, and Fireheart had to be the one to tell them. 

“Why's it always you?” Greystripe scowled. 

_ I've asked myself that so many times…  _

“Let me know when you find the answer.” The ginger tom scowled. “Where's Nutleaf? We should be getting home.” 

“I want to see my kits.” Greystripe insisted. Fireheart sighed. If this thistle-brain didn't shut up and let them leave-! 

“The kits can't leave the nursery.” Fireheart reminded him tiredly. 

“Then I'll go to them-.” 

“In ThunderClan? Where nobody wants you?” Dustpelt sneered. “Just give it a moon or so. You'll see them eventually.” 

Greystripe bristled, and Fireheart couldn't be bothered to care. 

“Nutleaf will be fine with Mudfur, my friend. Perhaps you'll feel better after getting some rest.” Greenflower crooned sadly in his ear and he nodded along. 

“Home's nice.” He mumbled. “I wanted her to live.” 

“Everyone has their time, Fireheart. She watches you from the Stars.” 

The orange tom nodded and allowed Sandstorm to nudge him to his paws. 

“Happy parenting.” He yawned. “You and Blackclaw will be great.” 

“Thank you, Fireheart.” The smoky tom dipped his head in acknowledgment as he led the patrol out of the camp. 


	13. Twelve

They got back to camp and Fireheart was instantly surrounded by pale grey and tabby fur. 

_ Willowpelt and Brindleface _ , he realized groggily. Sandstorm was still plastered to his side and the group slipped, one by one, into the nursery. 

His eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the minimal sunlight, but once they did, he didn't regret being there. Brindleface curled back around Ashkit and Fernkit, while Goldenflower’s protective gaze swept over all four of the kits at her belly. Stormkit and Featherkit might not remember their time in ThunderClan; as much as that hurt to think about, Fireheart knew that it was for the best. The only attachment they had to ThunderClan was the fact that they were too weak to be without a mother for long, and Fireheart happened to find them.

They were scrawny, and the ginger tom knew that they'd get bigger as time went on, but Stars if it didn't make his heart twist… 

“Thank you.” He mumbled at last. “I can never repay you for this-.” 

“We cherish all kits.” Goldenflower murmured. “Those brought into this world haven't been given enough information to do anything but wish to be safe and warm. Any cat who gets in the way of such goals is not a true cat.” 

Fireheart dipped his head gratefully. 

“I'll bring you all the prey in the forest.” He vowed. 

That made Goldenflower laugh, much to her kits confusion. 

“Have fun competing with Tigerclaw. He's determined that everything be perfect.” 

Fireheart snickered. 

“I'll bet.” 

The dark brown deputy was many things, but he would not have anything less than the best for those he considered family. 

_ His definition of _ the best  _ is skewed to Highstones, even if he means well. _

Fireheart shook his head to rid himself of the dark thoughts. 

“You laugh now, but this’ll be you and Sandstorm one day.” Brindleface purred. Both cats went stock-still at the proclamation. 

“Perhaps not for a while yet, mother.” Sandstorm choked out. 

“Your talk of grandkits shall have to be set aside, Brindleface. These two are no more than children themselves. They should see the world before they settle in.” Willowpelt offered. 

“Oh, sure, that'll be moons away. Don't worry. But in the meantime, you are fun to tease, dear.” the grey and white tabby chortled to her daughter. Fireheart practically felt his mate heating up with embarrassment. 

“Thank you.” He laughed. “You all are very good at getting cats’ minds off things.” 

“Comes with the territory, dear. Ask your sister when she gets back. She'll tell you that a mother knows best.” 

Fireheart and Sandstorm laughed as they backed out of the nursery, to be met with an amused Dustpelt. 

“They're trying to keep you in there permanently, aren't they, Sandstorm?” He chuckled. 

“Not you too!” She groaned. 

“I jest, I jest. How are they?” He asked, more serious. 

“Snug and warm and dead to the world.” Fireheart snorted. “They'll be more than fine in that nursery.” 

“Yeah, queens are too awesome for anything else.” Dustpelt offered warmly. “Your friend’s kits will be fine, Fireheart. You should get some rest.” 

* * *

Fireheart slept in his nest that night, smothered by Sandstorm’s warmth and glad for it. 

“I guess I know why you said what you did before.”    
“Trust me when I say that no one could have predicted that without the knowledge of the First Ancestors. Battles and famine, we can easily warn against, but there are some things that have been purely left to chance.” 

Spottedleaf was the one to deliver these words, much like she had on the night of Lionheart’s vigil. 

“At the very least, Greystripe will be fine in RiverClan.”    
“Fine is not the word I would use.” A new voice scoffed lightly. Silverstream padded over from practically out of nowhere, pelt shining with all the stars in the night sky. 

“You look better than you have been.” Fireheart offered calmly. 

“I suppose that should be a compliment.” The silver she-cat snorted. “Thank you for taking in my kits.”    
“Don’t thank me yet.” Fireheart scoffed. “At least wait until they survive their first night.” 

“They’ll survive much more than that.” His RiverClan friend growled, determined. Fireheart dipped his head reluctantly. Stars forbid anything happen to either of Silverstream’s kits, but he couldn’t help remembering how their fates had played out in his last life. 

“You will care for them, won’t you? When the time comes?” The slender she-cat pleaded. Fireheart dipped his head. 

“I’d be honored, and I’m sure Sandstorm would be glad to help me.” He muttered. 

Not that it would last long. He counted on them being in RiverClan in a couple moons. There wouldn’t be much of his Clan for them to remember by then. 

His thoughts were disturbed by something jabbing him in the side, and when he glanced up, Silverstream, Redtail, and Spottedleaf were gone. 

* * *

“Good morning.” Sandstorm’s breath was warm on his ear, and he recalled dimly that at some point, his mate had actually climbed into his nest and curled around him just like her father had when Fireheart was an apprentice. 

“You and your father are just big for no reason.” The ginger tom informed his companion. 

“You’re just mad because I’m bigger than you and still have my winter coat.” She snickered quietly. “I can out-fluff you anyday.” 

“Yeah, well you’ll hate all that fur come greenleaf.” He snorted. “Now if you’d do me the honor of letting me get up, I’m going to make good on my promise to Goldenflower.”    
“Feel free to stay in your nest.” Tigerclaw’s voice was positively eerie for how gentle it was, and Fireheart fought to remember that the larger tom would eventually betray them. “I’ve decided the patrols already, and I don’t want you going out alone until we’ve found Greystripe.” 

“There’s no reason to find Greystripe.” Fireheart yawned. “He should be off ThunderClan territory by now.”    
“Let’s not count on that.” Darkstripe snorted from four nests to his left. “Besides, you tend to get in trouble when you go outside of camp.”    
“So I’m just not going to hunt?” Fireheart asked wearily. 

“We don’t have our warriors work just after they’ve lost loved ones.” Mousefur informed him gently. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost Runningwind or Sandstorm.” 

Fireheart was reminded again of Tulipwood, the she-cat who had died of famine not long after her daughter had become an apprentice.

Silverstream had been a dear friend, a sister in all but name, and he desperately wished that she’d had more time. 

_ Not every stone in the river alters its course _ .

Silverstream was destined to go on that walk. Stormfur and Feathertail were destined to grow up without their mother… but not destined to be orphans. What was a Clan if these two kits didn’t receive the best care they could during their time here? Goldenflower would love them as her own, right alongside the other queens. The rest of the Clan would have no reason to treat kits harshly, no matter what Clan they were from. 

Sandstorm all but burrowed into his nest as if he were a clump of feathers, but she wrapped her paws around his forelegs. 

“You’re thinking too hard.” She murmured gently. “Go back to sleep.” 

So he did. 

* * *

Fireheart paused at the edge of the trees. 

“Wait,” he warned Lightpaw. “We’re near Twolegplace, so we have to be careful. What can you smell?” 

Lightpaw raised his nose obediently and sniffed. He and Fireheart were on the second long expedition of his apprenticeship, tracing the Clan boundaries and renewing the scent marks. He’d practically begged Runningwind to let Fireheart come out of camp with them. 

“Cloudpaw and Patchpaw have been showing off to him and now it’s my turn!” The brown and white tom insisted. 

Now they were near Fireheart’s old kittypet home, outside the garden where Nutleaf once lived. 

“I can smell lots of cats,” Lightpaw informed him.. “I don’t recognize a lot of them, but I thought I caught Tigerclaw’s. That can’t be right, though.” Lightpaw mused. 

“This is still ThunderClan territory.” Fireheart meowed evenly, desperately hoping that Lightpaw wouldn’t question this further. 

“He probably just marked the border at some point.” The younger tom reasoned happily. 

“The others are mostly kittypets, and maybe a loner or two. Not Clan cats.” Fireheart offered. 

He remembered tracking Tigerclaw here way back in leafbare, and finding the deputy’s scent mixed with the scents of many strange cats. Now Tigerclaw’s scent proved he had been here again. 

_ Is he plotting with outsiders? Has he found the remainder of Brokentail’s outlaws or the rogue cats of the Bloodless Clan?  _

Let the Stars forbid it! Fireheart was determined not to become deputy. 

“Hey, Fireheart?” Lightpaw was calling out to him, so the ginger tom snapped his head around to face his nephew. 

“Did you say something?”    
“I was wondering if you knew who our father was.” The brown and white tom inquired. Fireheart shook his head. He had some suspicions, but he wouldn’t dare bring the kits into this on the off-chance that he was wrong. 

“Nutleaf never spoke of your father.” He informed his kin truthfully. 

“Do you think anyone in Twolegplace knows?”    
“I think you should ask your mother.” Fireheart insisted. 

“I tried!” Lightpaw scowled. “And you’re right. She won’t speak of him.”    
“Then perhaps it’s better left alone.” The ginger warrior meowed consolingly. 

“But Bramblekit and Tawnykit have Tigerclaw! Ashkit and Fernkit have Darkstripe! Why is it that the younger cats have two parents but we don’t?!” 

“If it helps you at all, it’s common for house cats not to know who their parents are. I barely remember my mother, and my father never visited us. Then I was sent to live with new house folk, and that was it.” 

“So none of the older cats know who their parents are?” Lightpaw snorted skeptically. 

“Plenty of cats grow up with only their mother. Queens have every right not to announce who they’ve mated with, and toms aren’t always obligated to look after their kits. That’s the way things go sometimes, Lightpaw, but I can ask Princess about your father if you want.” 

Lightpaw looked ready to squeal, he was so happy! 

“Please please please please  _ please _ !” The little tom hopped from paw to paw, and Fireheart dipped his head nervously. 

“If I find out, you can’t tell anyone. This is Nutleaf’s decision to make, and you can’t let your curiosity spoil her mood.” 

Runningwind came back from his run of the border and the trio padded back to camp. 

* * *

Nutleaf appeared and dropped a bunch of herbs at Yellowfang’s feet. 

“Are these the right ones?” she asked. Yellowfang gave the herbs a quick sniff. “Yes, that’s right,” she approved. “You can’t eat before the ceremony,” she added, “but I will. I’m too old and creaky to get to Highstones and back without something to keep me going.” She crouched in front of the herbs and began to gulp them down. “Highstones?” Fireheart echoed. “Ceremony? What’s so special about this one?” He wondered. As far as he recalled, medicine cats didn't have to fast before they communed with StarClan. 

_ Things are different here. _ He reminded himself.

“Yellowfang and I are going to Mothermouth so I can be made a proper apprentice.” Nutleaf gave a joyful wriggle, and Fireheart felt a wave of relief. She seemed to be getting better after Silverstream’s death, and was looking forward again to life as a medicine cat. Her eyes had recovered their old sparkle, and there was a new wisdom and thoughtfulness in their green depths. 

“I’ll come with you tonight, if you like,” he offered. “As far as Fourtrees, anyway.” 

“Oh, would you, Fireheart?!” 

_ Nutleaf sounds so excited… _

No farther than Fourtrees,” warned Yellowfang, getting to her paws and swiping her tongue around her mouth. “Tonight at Mothermouth is for named medicine cats only.” 

She gave herself a brisk shake and led the way through the ferns to the clearing. As Fireheart followed behind Nutleaf, he saw Cloudpaw washing himself by the tree stump outside the apprentices’ den. The white tom sprang up as soon as he saw Fireheart and raced across to him. 

“Where are you going?” he demanded. “Can I come?”

“You'll have to ask Whitestorm. And it wouldn't be fair to your siblings if they couldn't see Nutleaf off.” Fireheart rebuked. 

Cloudpaw nodded eagerly and raced off to gather his mentor and siblings.


	14. Thirteen

The sun grew hot as the four cats made their way to Fourtrees. Fireheart was thankful for the deep shade under the trees and the cool freshness of long grass and clumps of fern as they brushed against his orange fur. All his senses were alert, and he kept his niece and nephews busy scenting the air and reporting on what they could smell. Fireheart hadn’t forgotten the attack from the ex-ShadowClan cats. They had been defeated once, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try again. Besides that, Fireheart was half expecting trouble from RiverClan over Graystripe’s kits. He sighed. On a beautiful morning like this, with fresh green on the trees and prey practically leaping out of the bushes and waiting to be caught, it was hard to be thinking of attacks and death. In spite of his worries, the group of cats reached Fourtrees without trouble. As they slid through the bushes down into the hollow, Fireheart dropped back to match Nutleaf step for step.

“They're proud of me.” His sister muttered bitterly. 

“Is it that obvious?” Fireheart joked as her kits pranced through the forest. 

“They shouldn't be.” Nutleaf insisted. “I'm a failure.”

“You're nowhere near.” The ginger tom insisted. “I learned the hard way that not everyone can be saved. Cats are destined to go to StarClan at their given time, and all the herbs in the world can't change fate.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Fireheart watched the sun climbing the trees. 

“Tigerclaw wants to send the apprentices on solo hunting missions today,” Whitestorm meowed to him. The ginger warrior looked up in surprise. 

“That’s early, isn’t it? They've barely been made apprentices.” Whitestorm shrugged. “Tigerclaw must think they're ready. He told me to follow Cloudpaw and see how he does, anyway. Would you like to come and help?” It was the morning after Nutleaf had returned from Mothermouth. Fireheart had met her as she slipped down the ravine in the twilight. Though she greeted him affectionately, they both knew she could not tell him what she had gone through. Her face still wore a look of rapture, and the moon itself seemed to shine from her eyes. Fireheart tried hard not to feel that he had lost her to an unknown path. Herbmaster he might be, he'd never see the side of StarClan that she would. Aside from the tortoiseshell twins, of course. But then, he had his own problems and she was absolutely looking forward to this, so he was more than happy for her.

Now he sat beside the nettle patch, watching Sandstorm enjoy a mouse. He'd taken a magpie from the pile of fresh-kill but barely touched it. 

“No, thanks,” Fireheart meowed. “I promised Goldenflower I’d look in on the kits. Their eyes are open now,” he added with a touch of pride. 

“Okay,” She offered nervously. “I’ll see you later.” Swallowing a few more bites of the magpie, he went to find Whitestorm. Tigerclaw had been busy that morning, sending out a patrol with Mousefur to renew the scent markings along the RiverClan boundary, and another with Dustpelt to hunt around Snakerocks, so he had neglected to tell the mentors where Nutleaf’s kits should go for his hunting mission. 

“You can make for Twolegplace,” He overheard Whitestorm inform Cloudpaw. “Then you won’t get in the way of the other patrols. You won’t see me, but I’ll be watching you. I’ll meet you by the beginnings of Twolegplace.” He explained. Cloudpaw’s eyes gleamed, and his snowy fur was fluffed up with excitement. Fireheart couldn’t help remembering how nervous he had felt before his own first assessment; Cloudpaw, in contrast, was bursting with confidence. 

“Off you go, then,” Fireheart meowed. 

He watched the young apprentice race off toward the tunnel. “Pace yourself!” he called after him. “You’ve a long way to go!” But Cloudpaw didn’t slow down as he disappeared into the gorse. Shrugging, more amused than annoyed, Fireheart glanced around for the other mentors and apprentices, but they had probably left camp by them because they were nowhere to be seen. Fireheart turned to follow Cloudpaw out of the camp. Hopefully he'd run into them. 

  
  
  


The scents of his kin were strong, showing where Splashpaw had ranged back and forth through the woods in search of prey. A flurry of loose feathers told of a caught thrush, and specks of blood on the grass showed that a mouse had fallen to Patchpaw's claws. Not far from the edge of the Tallpines, Fireheart found the spot where Lightpaw had buried some fresh-kill so he could return for it later. Impressed that the apprentice was hunting well so early in his training, Fireheart put on speed, hoping to catch up and watch him stalking his prey. But before he reached Twolegplace he caught sight of the brown and white tom racing back along his own scent trail, fur bristling and a wild light in his eyes. 

“Lightpaw!” Fireheart ran forward to meet him, his body tingling with sudden fear. Lightpaw skidded to a halt, his claws scattering pine needles, barely managing to avoid a collision with Fireheart. 

“Something’s wrong!” he panted. 

“What?” Icy claws clutched at Fireheart’s belly. 

“I saw Tigerclaw, and there were some strange cats with him.” 

“At Twolegplace?” Fireheart meowed sharply. “Where we smelled them the day you asked about your father?” 

“That’s right.” Lightpaw’s whiskers twitched. “They were huddled together, just on the edge of the trees. I tried to get closer to hear what they were saying, but I was afraid they would see me. I couldn't find Runningwind, so I came to find you.” 

“You did the right thing,” Fireheart told him, his mind racing frantically. “What were these cats like? Did they have Clan scent?” 

“No.” Lightpaw wrinkled his nose. “They smelled of crowfood.” 

“And you didn’t recognize them?” The younger tom shook his head. 

“They were thin and hungry-looking. Their fur was all mangy. They were horrible, Fireheart!” 

_ And they were talking to Tigerclaw. _ Fireheart frowned. That was the detail that worried him. He could take a guess at who the strange cats were—the former ShadowClan warriors who had left their Clan with Brokentail when he had been driven out. They had caused trouble before, and there were no other rogues that Fireheart knew of in the forest now—but what Tigerclaw was doing with  _ them _ , of all the cats he could've done this with, was a mystery. 

“All right,” he mewed to Lightpaw. “Follow me. And keep as quiet as if you were creeping up on a mouse.” He headed cautiously toward Twolegplace, stalking from paw to paw over the softly cracking pine needles. Long before he reached the edge of the forest he picked up the strong reek Lightpaw mentioned. 

He vaguely recognized Tigerclaw, and as if the thought had summoned him the deputy came into sight at that moment, bounding through the trees in the direction of the camp. There was no undergrowth to provide cover under the pine trees. All Fireheart and Lightpaw could do was flatten themselves in one of the deep furrows carved out by the Treecut monster and pray to StarClan they wouldn’t be seen. A group of scrawny warriors poured after Tigerclaw. Their jaws were parted eagerly and their eyes blazed. All the cats were so intent on the trail that they never noticed Fireheart and Lightpaw, crouching in their scant cover a few rabbit-hops away. Fireheart lifted his head and watched them race out of sight. For a moment he was frozen with horror and disbelief. 

_ I thought Goldenflower would be enough… that his kits would be enough, this  _ Clan _ would be enough! _

“Run!” Fireheart ordered his nephew. “Run like your life depends on it!” Already the younger tom was pelting through the trees. There was just a faint hope that he could outpace Tigerclaw and the rogues, and warn the Clan. 

_ He sent out all those patrols this morning,  _ Fireheart thought, fighting back panic. And he had the apprentices and their mentors out of camp! He hasn't changed in the slightest! He’s been planning this all along! ****

* * *

Fireheart hurtled through the trees, muscles bunching and stretching as he drove himself on. But when he reached the ravine, he realized that he had not run fast enough. The hindquarters and tails of the last of the rogues were just vanishing into the gorse tunnel. Launching himself down the steep side of the ravine, with Lightpaw scrabbling down behind him, Fireheart let out a yowl. 

“ThunderClan! Enemies! Attack!” 

He hurled himself into the tunnel and at the same moment he heard another yowl from the camp ahead. 

“To me, ThunderClan!” It was the familiar battle cry, but the voice was Tigerclaw’s. He burst into the clearing just as Tigerclaw whirled on the band of rogues, who scattered, yowling, from his attack. The deputy certainly looked as if he were trying to drive enemies from the camp, but Fireheart was close enough to see that his claws were sheathed. 

“You fox-hearted rat!”

He had brought these enemy cats here, but he was cunning enough to conceal his own treachery. There was no time for any more thought. However they had come here, the rogue cats were now attacking the camp. Fireheart turned swiftly to Lightpaw. 

“Go and find the patrols and tell them to come back,” he ordered. “Whitestorm and Cloudpaw somewhere along the RiverClan boundary, and Sandstorm went to Snakerocks.” 

“Yes, Fireheart.” Lightpaw raced back into the tunnel. Fireheart sprang at the nearest rogue, a dark mottled tabby, and raked his claws down his side. The rogue snarled and twisted toward him, paws splayed for attack. He tried to pin Fireheart down, but Fireheart’s hindpaws pummeled his belly, and the rogue broke away howling. Fireheart scrambled to his paws and crouched with tail lashing and fur bristling as he looked around for another enemy. Outside the entrance to the nursery, Goldenflower was wrestling a rogue with a pale coat, the two of them rolling over and over as they tried to get hold with teeth and claws. Brindleface and Speckletail were fighting against a warrior twice their size. Near the warriors’ den, Darkstripe dug his front claws into the shoulder of a huge tabby, while his back claws shredded their flank. Fireheart froze at the sound of a pained yowl. At the other side of the clearing, one of Brokentail’s former warriors had pounced Dustpelt, fastening his teeth in the younger cat’s throat. Dustpelt was struggling furiously to free himself. 

Fireheart plunged across the clearing to help Dustpelt, but before he even got halfway he was bowled over by a rogue cat. His flank stung as claws raked down it. Green eyes glared a mouse-length from his own. Fireheart bared his fangs and tried to bite down into the enemy’s shoulder, but the rogue cat batted him away. Claws ripped into his ear. His belly was exposed and he couldn’t twist free. Suddenly his attacker let out a wail and released him. Fireheart caught a glimpse of Thornclaw with his teeth fastened into the rogue’s tail. The rogue dragged him through the dust until Thornclaw released him and the enemy fled. Panting, Fireheart scrambled to his paws. 

“Thanks,” he gasped. Thornclaw nodded briefly before racing off to where Goldenflower still battled in front of the nursery. Fireheart looked around again. Dustpelt had vanished and the ex-ShadowClan tom was stumbling farther into the clearing, letting out a weird wailing that struck a chill into Fireheart’s heart. The former ShadowClan cat possessed a terrifying power that seemed driven by something more than mortal. The clearing heaved with struggling cats, but as Fireheart poised himself to rejoin the fray he recalled the chilling purpose of this attack. 

_ He had to find Bluestar! _

In a heartbeat, Fireheart realized that he couldn’t see Tigerclaw either. He dodged around Willowpelt, who was clinging to the back of a much bigger rogue, her teeth fastened in his ear, and made for Bluestar’s den. To his relief, as he approached the entrance he heard Bluestar meow from inside, “I always knew this day would come.” She scowled. “Fireheart wanted you gone immediately, but I made that mistake with your mentor. I needed solid proof of your actions before I ended this permanently.” 

“Remember me to StarClan, Bluestar!” Tigerclaw sneered. “The reign of Tigerstar starts with your death!” 

“And ends with yours!” Fireheart roared as the lichen swirled around him. 

He flung himself at Tigerclaw, slashing at his eyes. The deputy reared back, forced to release his grip on Bluestar’s throat. Fireheart felt his claws rip through the deputy’s ear, spraying blood into the air. Bluestar scrambled to the side of the den, looking half stunned. Fireheart could not tell how badly hurt she was. Pain lanced through him as Tigerclaw gashed his side with a blow from his powerful hindpaws. Fireheart’s paws skidded in the sand and he lost his balance, hitting the ground with Tigerclaw on top of him. The deputy’s amber eyes blazed into his. 

“Mousedung!” he hissed. “I’ll flay you, Fireheart. I thought I could trust you!” 

Fireheart summoned every scrap of skill and strength he possessed. He knew Tigerclaw could kill him, but in spite of that he felt strangely free. The lies and the need for deceit were over. The secrets, his and Tigerclaw’s, were out in the open. There was only the clean danger of battle. He aimed a blow at Tigerclaw’s throat, but the deputy swung his head to one side and Fireheart’s claws scraped harmlessly through thick tabby fur. The blow  _ had _ loosened Tigerclaw’s grip on him. Fireheart rolled away, narrowly avoiding a killing bite to his neck. 

“I didn't train you to fight like a kittypet, did I?” Tigerclaw taunted, flexing his haunches to pounce again. He threw himself at Fireheart, but at the last moment Fireheart darted aside. As Tigerclaw tried to turn in the narrow den, his paws slipped on a splash of blood and he crashed awkwardly onto one side. At once Fireheart saw his chance. His claws sliced down to open a gash in Tigerclaw’s side Blood welled up, soaking into the deputy’s fur. He let out a high-pitched caterwaul. Fireheart pounced on him, raking claws across his belly again, and fastening his teeth into Tigerclaw’s neck. The deputy struggled vainly to free himself, his thrashing growing weaker as the blood flowed. Fireheart let go of his neck, planting one paw on Tigerclaw’s outstretched foreleg, and the other on his chest. 

“Bluestar!” he called. “Help me hold him down!” 

The greyish leader was crouched behind him in her moss-lined nest. Blood trickled down her forehead, but that did not alarm Fireheart as much as the look in her eyes. They were vague and clouded, and she stared horror-struck in front of her as if she was witnessing the destruction of everything she had ever worked for.

_ She'd been hoping I was wrong…  _

When Fireheart spoke, she jumped like a cat woken suddenly from sleep. Moving with dreamlike slowness, she crossed the den and pinned herself across Tigerclaw’s hindquarters, trapping him. Even with wounds that would have stunned a lesser cat, Tigerclaw still fought to free himself. His amber eyes burned with hatred as he spat curses at Fireheart and Bluestar. 

A shadow fell across the entrance to the den and Fireheart heard hoarse, ragged breathing. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the invaders, but it was Darkstripe. Dismay flooded over Fireheart at the sight of the other tom. He was bleeding heavily from his flank and one foreleg, and blood bubbled from his mouth as he stammered.

“Bluestar, we-” He broke off, “What with StarClan?!”

“Tigerclaw attacked Bluestar,” Fireheart told him quickly. “He brought the rogues to attack us.” Darkstripe went on staring, and then shook himself as if he had just climbed out of deep water. 

“We’re losing the fight,” he meowed. “There are too many of them. Bluestar, we need your help.” The leader looked at him but did not reply. Fireheart could see that her eyes were still dull and unseeing, as if the discovery of the truth about Tigerclaw had bruised her spirit beyond repair. 

“I’ll come,” Fireheart offered. “Darkstripe, can you help Bluestar hold on to Tigerclaw? We’ll deal with him when the battle’s over.” 

“You can try, kit,” Tigerclaw sneered through a mouthful of sand. Darkstripe limped across the den and took Fireheart’s place, planting his claws on Tigerclaw’s chest. For a heartbeat Fireheart hesitated, uncertain that wounded Darkstripe and Bluestar in a state of shock would be a match for Tigerclaw. But the deputy was still losing blood, and his struggles were definitely getting weaker. Swiftly Fireheart turned and raced outside again. At first glance the clearing seemed to be filled with rogues, as if all the ThunderClan warriors had been driven out. Then Fireheart caught a glimpse of familiar shapes here and there—Longtail squirming underneath a huge tabby tom; Patchpelt scrabbling just out of reach of a skinny gray outlaw, whirling around to rake his nose with outstretched claws before he hurled himself at the rogue’s belly. Fireheart tried to collect his strength. The fight with Tigerclaw had exhausted him, and the wounds where the deputy had clawed him burned like fire. He knew that he couldn't do this forever. He rolled over instinctively as a ginger she-cat tried to drive her claws into his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lithe, blue-gray body racing across the clearing, yowling a challenge.  _ Mistyfoot? What's she doing here?!  _

With a massive effort Fireheart tore free of the ginger cat and scrambled to his paws. RiverClan warriors were pouring out of the tunnel. Leopardfur, Stonefur, Blackclaw…

After them came Whitestorm and the rest of his patrol. They were strong and full of energy, and they fell on the invaders with claws outstretched and tails lashing in fury. Terrified by the sudden appearance of reinforcements, the rogue cats scattered. The ginger she-cat fled with a shocked howl and others followed suit. Fireheart staggered a few paces in pursuit, hissing and spitting to speed them on their way, but there was no need. Surprised when they thought their victory was certain, and leaderless now that Tigerclaw had been caught, the rogues had no fight left in them. Within a few heartbeats, they were gone. The RiverClan cats were gathering together again with murmurs of concern as Fireheart limped across to them. 

“Thank you,” he meowed. “I’ve never been so glad to see any cat in my life.” 

“I recognized some of Brokentail's former warriors.” Leopardfur informed him gravely.

“Yes.” Fireheart didn’t want to say anything yet about Tigerclaw’s involvement. “How did you know we needed help?” he asked, puzzled. 

“We didn’t,” replied Mistyfoot. “We came to talk to Bluestar about—” 

The kits, probably.

“Not now,” Leopardfur interrupted. “ThunderClan needs time to recover.” She dipped her head graciously toward Fireheart. “We are glad to have helped. Tell your leader we will return soon.” 

“I will,” Fireheart promised. “And thanks again.” 

He watched the RiverClan cats leave, then looked around, feeling his shoulders sag with tiredness. The clearing was littered with blood and fur. Yellowfang and Nutleaf were beginning to examine the injured cats. Though Fireheart hadn’t noticed them in the fighting, they both bore the marks of enemy claws. He took a deep breath. It was time to deal with Tigerclaw, but he could barely summon the strength to walk. His wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body shrieked a protest with each step. As he limped toward Bluestar’s den, a voice sounded behind him. 

“Fireheart! What happened?” He turned to see Sandstorm, newly returned at the head of her hunting patrol, with Lightpaw panting just behind her. 

_ Good job! _ Fireheart smothered his nephew in mental praise.

“Oh Sandstorm, thank StarClan.” Fireheart murmured, stumbling forward. “I love you.” He panted as she raced forward to ease him to the ground. 

“You're not leaving me to raise Stormkit and Featherkit alone!” She hissed. “Now what happened?” 

“Brokentail’s outlaws,” he grunted. 

“Again?” Sandstorm whined. “We're supposed to be done with them!” 

Fireheart felt unable to explain right then. 

“Sandstorm, will you do something for me, and not ask questions?” Sandstorm shot him a suspicious look. 

“Depends what it is.” 

“Go to Bluestar’s den and deal with what you find there. Better take another warrior. Brackenheart, can you go? Bluestar or Darkstripe will tell you what to do.” 

_ Or so I hope _ … Fireheart sighed. Sandstorm, eyes wide with realization, jerked her head at Brackenheart and headed for the Highrock. Out of everything that had happened, what disturbed Fireheart most was how Bluestar seemed be reverting back to what he'd seen in her later years the first time around. Fireheart stood numbly in the center of the clearing, watching as Yellowfang and Nutleaf examined each cat in the Clan. 

Turning away from Yellowfang, Fireheart saw Sandstorm emerging from the den beneath the Highrock. She was followed by Tigerclaw, who struggled forward with an odd, lurching gait. His fur was matted with dust and blood, and one eye was half closed. He stumbled to a halt and collapsed in front of the rock. Brackenheart trailed him closely, alert for any sign that the deputy intended to attack or flee. Behind him came Bluestar. Her head was drooping and her tail dragged in the dust. Fireheart’s worst fears flooded back. The strong leader Fireheart had respected seemed to have vanished, leaving instead this frail, wounded cat. He could handle this, of course he could. He had the first time around… but he couldn't bear to watch her fall apart all over again! 

Last of all, Darkstripe limped out of the den and sank down on his side in the shade of the Highrock. Nutleaf hurried over to him and began to inspect his wounds with an anxious frown. 

Bluestar raised her head and looked around.

“Come here, all of you,” she rasped, beckoning the clan to her with a flick of her tail. While the rest of the Clan were gathering, Fireheart padded over to his sister. 

“Can you give Tigerclaw anything for his wounds?” he asked. “Or just some poppyseeds?” He thought he had wanted to defeat Tigerclaw more than anything, but now smothered the urge to wail inconsolably.

_ I was a mouse-brained fool to ever believe that he cared a morsel about family. Stars, he tried to kill us all, _ just like I knew he would,  _ and he still managed to blindside me  _ completely _!  _

Nutleaf looked up from her examination of Darkstripe. To Fireheart’s relief, she didn’t challenge his request for her to treat the treacherous deputy. 

“Of course,” she meowed. “I should get what I need for Darkstripe as well.” She loped in the direction of Yellowfang’s den. 

The Clan cats had taken their places by the time she returned. Fireheart could see them looking at one another, uneasily wondering what all this might mean. Nutleaf padded over with a wad of herbs in her mouth. She dropped some of them beside Tigerclaw, and gave the rest to Darkstripe. The deputy sniffed the leaves suspiciously and then began to chew them.

Bluestar watched him for a moment and then began to speak. 

“I present you with Tigerclaw, now a prisoner.” She began solemnly. A chorus of worried murmurs interrupted her. Cats were looking at each other in shock and dismay. 

“A prisoner?” Longtail echoed. “Tigerclaw’s your deputy! What has he done?”

“Tigerclaw's a traitor!” Dustpelt sneered, weaving through the crowd to stand beside Fireheart and Sandstorm. 

“He tried to kill Bluestar in her den just now.” Darkstripe confirmed wearily. 

The murmurs of protest grew into fierce yowling, and nobody had any clue what was going on. 

“I should've handled this better,” Fireheart panted. “I could've seen-.” 

“Nothing.” Sandstorm insisted gently. “You could have seen nothing, because you've done everything you could.” 

“This is obviously a mistake! Tell them, Tigerclaw!” Longtail jeered. “Tell them the kittypet is wrong!” 

“I know who killed my father!” Sandstorm roared, lunging for the tan tom. “Fireheart and Ravenpaw, wherever he is may StarClan watch over him… Fireheart and Ravenpaw were there at the battle for Sunningrocks. They saw what happened after everyone left. I didn't want to believe them when they told me, but it's true. That's the reason they were both walking ghosts after that battle! That's why Fireheart has been running around like a mouse on catnip. He's been trying to keep an eye on Tigerclaw and still prove himself to ThunderClan. And after all this time, you still have the nerve to call him a kittypet?!” 

Sandstorm was far beyond livid, and woe unto anyone who dared to cross her on this. The entire Clan was silent now, and Fireheart took the chance to speak. 

“Tigerclaw expected to be made deputy then,” Fireheart went on. “But Bluestar chose Lionheart instead. Then Lionheart died fighting ShadowClan, and, well, you all know how I reacted that night. I'd hoped that being deputy would be enough for him, that all his talk of wanting what was best for his family could be true… but he was a liar to us all.” Fireheart scowled. “Right before Nutleaf had her kits and the Clan had greencough, Tigerclaw set a trap for Bluestar by the Thunderpath. The turn that monsters make on that surface is not something the Twolegs can predict, so any cat who crossed a monster on that part of the path is guaranteed to be injured somehow. My entire bloodline could have been extinguished that day, but the monster was bigger than usual and had no chance to catch us in its claws.” 

Cats meowed their sorrow and outrage, most of them starting to turn on Tigerclaw by now. 

Fireheart searched for Goldenflower, who stared at her mate. Disbelief glazed her eyes just like it had Darkstripe's, and while Fireheart had figured they'd have a hard time of things, he couldn't help but hear his heart ripping itself to shreds at just the thought of what Goldenflower was going through. 

“Have you anything to say in your defense?” 

Whitestorm was the cat who spoke now, and his bitter tone reminded Fireheart of exactly how much history he and Tigerclaw had. They'd practically been  _ brothers _ ! Forget Bluestar, Whitestorm was the one to worry about now.

_ No, he'll be fine. She'll be fine, they'll all be fine! They just need some space.  _

“There is nothing to explain.” Tigerclaw snorted, turning to Bluestar. “I know what Goosefeather suffered from, and I think you're starting to show the signs. I thought I could be a better leader than you, that I could protect my family, my kits better… but I had to get there first. And Redtail certainly wasn't going to die by natural causes.” 

Tigerclaw sounded extremely bitter for some reason, and Fireheart couldn't help but wonder why. He had to know how this would end. 

“Better her than you!” Whitestorm sneered, positively fuming. “Better a cat who might forget a patrol was sent out than one who's willing to kill his Clanmates!”

“Whitestorm, I would never hurt you.” He insisted. 

“I have no such proof.” 

“We grew up together! We fought and played together. What makes you think-?”

“Thistleclaw grew up with Bluestar.” The white tom growled. “My father was your mentor, Tigerclaw,  _ you took his name _ ! Do you remember what happened to him?!” Whitestorm scowled. “Remember how we found him? Because I do. And you were content to end up just like him.”

“I'm  _ nothing _ like Thistleclaw!” Tigerclaw roared. “I didn't do this because I wanted power! I saw a problem with Bluestar that no one was prepared to fix! So now what, I've been stopped. You still have issues! What happens to the next deputy when Bluestar begins losing her Stars-given mind?!” 

“We'll deal with it. Eventually she'll step down, become an elder or something, but we don't turn on our own just because there's a problem. We work together, we figure out solutions and help each other. That's what a Clan is for!” 

“And just who, aside from you and Spottedleaf, who Thistleclaw also tried to impact, helped me when I needed it most?” Tigerclaw huffed. “You must think I'm  _ so _ evil, oh, Tigerclaw killed Redtail, Tigerclaw killed Bluestar… preach about a Clan to a cat who hasn't seen everyone turn their backs on him, Whitestorm, because while you two were there… it wasn't enough. Don't presume to know what I wished to accomplish, and don't think you've ever been enough to keep your father's darkness at bay. Help watch over my kits, Whitestorm. You and Bluestar will be good for that, I suppose.” 

Tigerclaw rose to his paws and walked toward the camp entrance. The Clan cats parted to let him through, every eye tracking him as he went. The great warrior was not completely steady on his paws, his wounds bothering him in spite of Nutleaf's herbs, but he did not stop or look back. The gorse tunnel swallowed him up and Tigerclaw was no more. 

  
  



	15. Epilogue

“I don't know why I started trusting him.” 

It was just past moonhigh of the next night. Fireheart had been named deputy mere moments ago, as ordained by tradition, and he'd set up patrols and organized cats into groups for the camp's repair. Now he sat in the shadow of Highrock, knowing exactly where he'd gone wrong and wondering why… 

“He started to look more like a cat you felt you  _ could _ trust.” Meowed familiar voice. Whitestorm… 

“I dreaded this day.” Fireheart admitted. “You were close to so few cats when I first came to ThunderClan, to lose another… I'd hoped he wouldn't try this, at least for you and Goldenflower. I'd hoped that being deputy was enough.” 

“Nothing is ever enough for cats like Tigerclaw.” Whitestorm informed his former apprentice, joining the ginger tom under the leader's den. “You were right to be wary. Bluestar was, in our youth. But then Thistleclaw died and she thought Tigerclaw had a chance to break from his shadow. She was wrong. We both were.” Whitestorm muttered solemnly. 

“I must say, you're doing rather well all things considered.” Dustpelt snorted from not too far off. “It's almost like you were destined to be leader.” 

Fireheart shook his head. 

“I'll not be leading ThunderClan if I can avoid it. I've simply been far too observant for my own good. If that helps me doing something productive, then all the better for it.” 

Dustpelt sighed and padded over to the pair of toms. 

“You did well, Fireheart. We knew this would happen eventually.” 

“Did you?” Whitestorm scoffed. “And neither of you thought to inform the rest of us?” 

“We needed proof.” Sandstorm murmured. “It took me longer than I'd like to admit to believe that Tigerclaw killed Redtail, but then I remembered how Fireheart and Ravenpaw acted after the battle… that wasn't Ravenpaw’s first fight as an apprentice. He acted stranger than usual, and my thoughts led me to the conclusion that they were right and something had happened.” 

“And none of you thought I deserved to know?” 

“It's not about what you deserved to know, it was about keeping Tigerclaw's ambition under wraps for as long as possible. Bluestar had trouble believing us. You grew up with Tigerclaw. What reason did I have to know that you wouldn't shut down completely? And over something I myself wasn't sure about? I didn't want to risk it. For  _ anyone _ .” Fireheart stressed. “But it's out now, and he's gone. What more can you ask of me?” 

“To eat, for starters.” Goldenflower's usually gentle voice was hoarse with tears, and Fireheart glanced up to find that she'd brought Brindleface, Willowpelt and Speckletail. All four she-cats we're carrying fresh-kill, and they set the prey before the warriors. 

“We'll eat well enough to last the moon, now we ask that you do the same.” 

Dustpelt dipped his head and touched noses with Speckletail before taking the mouse she offered. Sandstorm did the same with Brindleface and Willowpelt with a grumbling Whitestorm. Fireheart stared at Goldenflower, who set down the squirrel she held. 

“None of this is your fault.” She insisted firmly. 

“I knew what he was up to and I still let him suck me in.” 

“He's rather easily charismatic.” Willowpelt chuckled darkly. “Wonder who else he reminds me of.” 

“Tigerclaw's not that type of cat.” Fireheart found himself saying. 

“Any cat can be.” She snorted. Fireheart couldn't help but think that maybe this would make Willowpelt a bit more paranoid. 

The group munched on their fresh-kill, talked amongst themselves, and eventually retreated to their den. Sandstorm was the only one not to bother, once she realized that Fireheart wasn't moving. 

“I guess the den will feel strange for a while.” She mused. “What with us sleeping next to Darkstripe.” 

“Darkstripe's okay. It's Longtail I've been watching out for.” Her mate groused. “Besides, I'm not moving my nest.” 

“It's a sign of your position. You've earned the rank of deputy.” 

“There are enough older cats in the Clan for Bluestar to pick tomorrow. She only called me out because she needs someone to confide in.” 

“She called you out because you're a born leader.” Sandstorm insisted. 

“So is Goldenflower.” Fireheart snorted. 

“Sleep on it. “Sandstorm offered. “I'll be right here, and things should look better in the morning.” 

Fireheart nodded and buried his face in her side.

Sleep on it, sure. Like that'd make his life easier. He could just lounge around with Redtail and Spottedleaf… but no, Sandstorm wanted him here. The Clan needs him now. Nutleaf and her kits, Silverstream's kits… he had far too much to do to spend all his time thinking about StarClan. 


End file.
